The Courting Games
by thegenuineimitation
Summary: When Umbridge and her educational decrees all but ban romance at Hogwarts, the lovers in the school come up with a secretive solution. WARNING: Slash M/M!
1. Chapter 1

**The Courting Games**

**Chapter One: Nothing Ventured Nothing Gained**

**Summary:** When Umbridge bans romance at Hogwarts the lovers of all houses come up with a solution.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**WARNING:** The following program contains material that may not be suitable for all audiences (ie. SLASH M/M) viewer discretion is advised.

**Author's Note: **Greetings gentle readers and welcome to a world where magic is real and true love conquers if not all then most things! Now without further ado the story!

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><p>Harry arched an eyebrow as he read the note written on the inside of the carefully folded paper crane.<p>

_Potter,_

_Care to play a game?_

_-Draco Malfoy_

It was perfectly clear to Harry that the note was not written by Draco Malfoy. It was true Malfoy had been sending him paper cranes with insulting pictures or messages for a few years now when the blond was about to expire from boredom during class. This crane however was not sent by Malfoy no matter how much someone wanted him to think it was. For one, Malfoy never signed his work. He was too smart to leave such incriminating evidence. Secondly this was not Malfoy's handwriting. Malfoy's writing was neat, precise and a tad spiky, all the flourishes and loops made it glaringly obvious someone had tried a poor forgery.

Besides all that, the note was not filled with taunting insults or doodles but was instead an invitation to initiate a courting game, complete with the Slytherin courting symbol of a crown.

Due to the Education Decree number whatever the hell number they were up to now that all but outright forbade dating on Hogwarts grounds or in Hogsmeade, the lovers in all for houses had come up with the Courting Games. The person initiating the courting asked if their love interest wanted to play, and presented their house's agreed upon symbol. For Slytherin it was the crown, for Gryffindor it was a shield, for Hufflepuff it was a cloud, and for Ravenclaw it was a star. If the love interest wanted to give dating a go they would name a game. There had been more footraces, chess matches in the library, and one-on-one quidditch matches in the last month, then Harry could ever recall. The great part about it was if Umbridge or Filch got a hold of the notes or saw the games there was nothing to indicate anything more than harmless fun was afoot. There were also codes known by the upper years and/or risk takers for games that indicated they really wanted to find a quiet place for a snog.

So the question was, who wanted him to think Malfoy was interested in courting him? It wasn't anyone in Gryffindor as Dean Thomas was well known to be an exquisite forger and could be bought for cheap, and he hadn't pissed off anyone in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw lately, in fact with the DA being so popular he was back in the other houses good graces. He also very much doubted any of the Slytherins would presume to honor him by implying he was worthy of one of their own. More likely Malfoy had pissed off someone and this was their way of getting back at him.

Harry toyed with the paper thoughtfully.

It wasn't the only invitation he'd received, even as unpopular as he'd been at the beginning of the year people still wanted to have a go at the famous Harry Potter. After his failed date with Cho he'd been forced to reconsider his taste in women so he agreed to a courting with Sally-Ann Perks, a cheery Hufflepuff, and another with Morag MacDougal a serious Ravenclaw with sultry eyes. Those had lasted barely long enough for Harry to decide that really he like girls better as friends than girlfriends. Between all the giggling and the perfume and the silliness it was worth the mild thrill of tangling tongues with them. Ron insisted he was just picky, Hermione was seriously making him question his sexuality with her leading questions and pointed hmm-ing. She'd even given him a very embarrassing book that he'd hidden at the bottom of his trunk inside the dust cover for Un-fogging the Future.

Which was why, he supposed, he was even contemplating actually answering the note. Hermione had put all these doubts in his head and now he was curious to see if she was right.

Harry chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully and watched the rain drops slide down the glass of the window. It was a grey and gloomy Thursday morning, and he was in History of Magic class, if that wasn't the perfect setting for crazed day dreaming and random conjecture Harry didn't know what was. Harry read the note again.

Draco Malfoy was widely regarded by the female population of Hogwarts to be extremely handsome. Almost as handsome as Cedric Diggory had been, in fact. Though with Diggory it was more of a wholesome golden boy handsome than the icy aristocratic beauty Malfoy sported. Harry did have to admit that the annoying Slytherin did have nice hair, and was quite fit despite being slender as a reed but his face was also very pointed, like a ferret's, and all he ever did was sneer or scowl. Still, if a git like Malfoy could attract so much female attention he had to be good-looking and if Hermione was right about him and he did fancy blokes, despite the fact that he'd seen plenty of them and never thought of a single one in terms of his physical attractiveness, it stood to reason he could be wooed into being attracted to Malfoy.

Now what game should he suggest?

Harry froze the crinkled bit of paper that held the proposition fluttering the few inches from his nerveless fingers to the desk.

He was very seriously considering courting with Draco Malfoy. A bloke that he didn't even like and whose face he frequently wanted to pound in. Lucius Bloody Malfoy's son! Besides which just because he didn't, as Hogwarts' melodramatic gossip mongers always declared, hate Malfoy did not mean that he didn't think the blond was a complete and utter asshole.

"There you go Mione I'm not gay I'm just masochistic," he muttered under his breath.

Hermione looked up at him from where she was busily filling a page in her notebook with lots of very small cramped writing.

"Are you alright Harry? You've gone quite pale, was it, you know?" she whispered indicating her forehead with the end of her quill and looking concerned.

"It's nothing Mione, just remembered Snape's essay is due tomorrow and I haven't finished," he lied smiling tightly at his friend in what he hoped was a soothingly chagrined manner.

"Oh, honestly," she tsked disgustedly turning back to her notes.

Truth be told Harry was actually finished Snape's essay. He'd used a good many of his sleepless nights to make headway into his homework and was gratified to see that his marks were improving, even in potions. Snape had granted him a full one-percent higher grade on his last four written assignments and hadn't declared his practical work unfit for bottling in a good week.

Harry saved up all the hassle he could muster for Umbridge's classes. His hand twitched in remembered pain. His last set of antics had earned him the detention that made the words 'I must not tell lies' a permanent fixture on the back of his hand. When he realized the words were going to scar and scar badly he'd taken care to write neatly and really it didn't look too bad all things considered.

It was tempting to rationalize his musings about Malfoy by insisting that it would be the ultimate way to stick it to the stuck-up and no doubt homophobic toad without her being able to punish him, but while that certainly was an appealing secondary component, it wasn't the whole truth. The whole truth was Harry had gotten an idea in his head and now he wanted to put it in to action, even though the idea was crazy and the action was bound to get him rejected and humiliated.

He wasn't even sure Malfoy was gay. After all sexuality was not, contrary to popular belief, dependant on how long you spent in front of a mirror.

Seamus for example was about as straight as Hermione's hair and he often walked around with singed eyebrows, an untucked shirt and a crooked tie. Seamus was very open about his conquests and if even half of his stories were true he ran through lovers like normal people ran through socks. Hermione was convinced this was because he liked Dean but couldn't have him. It wasn't even fodder for gossip anymore, just an inter-house betting pool.

Malfoy had never displayed his preferences either way, only a blind idiot would think he was actually interested in his supposed girlfriend Pansy Parkinson, but the rumor mill had never caught wind of any of his affairs one way or another. Harry should know, he was a big believer in know thy enemy and Parvati and Lavender were under strict orders to keep him in the loop on any Malfoy related gossip.

So there was a fifty-fifty chance that Malfoy was even attracted to blokes. Harry considered it carefully. He thought he could live with those odds. It was a well known fact after all that when gambling while you sometimes lost spectacularly sometimes you also hit the jackpot, that was why people kept at it.

"Such a masochist," he mumbled to himself shaking his head even as he pulled out a square of parchment and began composing a reply.

If he wrote in block letters and worded it very carefully even if Malfoy did decide to make the note public, an unwise decision as he'd be risking Umbridge finding out and putting an end to the clandestine dating thus earning him the displeasure of pretty much everyone, Harry could simply lie. He had plausible deniability on his side, and people liked him better than Malfoy in any case. He didn't really like lying at Hogwarts, it hurt his credibility if the lie was uncovered but for this he could risk it. He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing after all.

He folded the notes into the origami box that was the extent of his paper folding ability and watched the minutes tick by until the end of History of Magic.

The students took a bit of time to rouse themselves when the clock rang the noon hour and Malfoy was no exception.

"Hey Mione, I'm going to the library to finish that essay, I'll meet you guys outside the greenhouses before Herbology," he said.

"Honestly Harry if you just did your work right when it was assigned to you instead of waiting until the last possible moment you wouldn't miss nearly so many meals and maybe you would actually gain some weight," she lectured.

"I'll think about it," Harry grinned cheekily.

He hefted his book bag over one shoulder, gathering all of his not inconsiderable Gryffindor nerve, and speed walked out of class in a route that just happened to take him right in from of Malfoy's desk. Before he could change his mind Harry deposited the little origami box and the distracted looking blond's desk and hightailed it out of the classroom in a manner that could only really be described as fleeing.

"I can't believe I just did that," he muttered over and over shaking his head as he went to hide...ahem..._study_ in the kitchens.

After all he was hungry and the house elves adored him, wouldn't poke fun at him or demand anything and best of all they had food.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Please send me a review and let me know what you guys think, hearing from you brightens my day and encourages creative flow!


	2. Chapter 2

**The Courting Games**

**Chapter Two: Leap of Faith**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**WARNING:** The story you are about to enjoy contains some material that may not be suitable for all audiences (SLASH!) viewer discretion is advised.

**Author's Note**: A bit of clarification before we move on to the next chapter since some readers have indicated a bit of confusion over why Harry is responding to a note Malfoy DID NOT send. The idea behind it is that Draco would never initiate the game by sending the note and without the note Harry would never have considered Draco courting material. It's all to do with tricking Harry's brain into believing he has a chance with actual Draco. Hope this little blurb and the chapter to follow clears things up a bit! Now on with the story!

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><p>"What's that Draco, love?" asked Pansy groggily, stretching and checking her make up in her little folding mirror.<p>

Draco glanced down at the desk. There perched on the left corner as if it had always been there was a little paper box.

"Nothing, I was just bored," he replied tucking the box casually into one of his robe's pockets.

"I don't know why you don't just sleep like the rest of us."

"Bed head is not a look I enjoy, darling, as you well know."

Pansy smirked wickedly, "I don't seem to recall you minding it on me."

His affair with Pansy had been as heated as it had been brief. It was a pity they'd both decided they wouldn't suit because their parents would have dearly loved to make an alliance match, but their friendship hadn't suffered and for that Draco would be eternally grateful.

Their closeness was why he kept the box from Pansy. She was far too perceptive when it came to him then she had any right to be and in this he did not want her prying and prodding. He knew the little origami box was from Potter, because Potter was the only one with whom he exchanged origami. Well, truth be told, mostly he just sent his little paper cranes Potter's way with insulting messages or enchanted doodles when he was bored and was endlessly amused when Potter glared at him for the rest of class. Potter had never sent anything in return, until now.

The little paper box was all but burning a hole in his pocket. He wanted to know what Potter had written but he didn't want Pansy to know that as of now he and Potter were exchanging notes. It was one thing for Draco to bombard Potter with insults it was another thing entirely to strike up a correspondence. Still, if Potter was sending him a note it meant that the Gryffindor Golden Boy had something that, for once, he didn't feel he could say to his face or in front of the Weasel and Granger. Draco was desperate to know what it was.

"Pansy, don't wait up alright? I want to go ask Professor Snape a question before Charms,"

"Say hello for me."

She waved him off still fussing with her mirror, not that any amount of cosmetics would soften the squashed quality of her upturned nose. In fact he'd often remarked that she looked ten times more attractive without make up, but he wasn't complaining today as her vanity left Draco free to slip into the crowd of students in the hall and rush down to the fourth floor.

"Watch where you're going!" he snarled briefly at some little firstie 'Puff as he bowled the smaller boy over sending his Potions text flying.

The cheery yellow midgets were constantly getting in his way clogging up the flow of traffic in the halls with their large slow moving chattering groups, so Draco made a point of reminding them of just where they stood in the whole scheme of things when he could get them alone.

Finally he reached the corridor he wanted and ducked into one of the unused classrooms.

With a muttered word he locked the door and a wave of his wand ensured that the desk he was leaning on was free of dust. He was after all a Malfoy, Malfoys did not gather dust. Since there was no one to witness his unseemly eagerness, Malfoys also never acted with undue haste, Draco unfolded the origami box with fumbling fingers to find a note scribbled on the inside of the paper used to make the box in Potter's cramped scrawl, and a second piece of folded paper.

After a moment's debate Draco decided to read the note on the inside of the box first.

_You know you should really stop pissing people off, not everyone would be as forgiving in my situation. _

_The game is 'The Question Game'. We ask each other questions and agree to answer truthfully if you refuse to answer the question posed you have to offer two pieces of information about yourself. The challenge is keep it a secret, no friends, no teachers, no parents or guardians. The only people who know are you and I. _

It wasn't signed, it didn't need to be after all but Draco's eyebrows lifted well into his hairline when he saw the Gryffindor courting shield.

"Is this some kind of sick prank?" he muttered to himself opening the second note.

The paper was crinkled from being fiddled with but the message was clear enough. Someone had, on behalf of him, made Potter a courting offer. Potter had of course correctly deduced that the note was not actually from Draco but rather was intended to embarrass him. A quick study of the handwriting gave him a good idea of who had sent the note. Yet, Potter wanted to be courted by him?

"Has he gone mental?" Draco demanded of the empty air.

He and Potter didn't like each other; they got under each other's skin, pushed sensitive buttons, threw insults and occasionally hexes or punches. They couldn't have a conversation of more than five words without coming to blows. Not that they'd really ever attempted it, to be fair.

Draco stared at the note until the words blurred. He could not believe he was even considering replying to Potter's overture. It was St. Potter! Scarhead! The Bloody Gryffindor Golden Boy-Who-Lived!

Perhaps that was why Draco was considering. Potter was...interesting. Draco never got bored of taunting him, confronting him, challenging him. And Potter gave as good as he got, challenging in return, in fact in the privacy of his own mind he acknowledged that he and Potter were equals. Potter had been the first to match him in anything. He was also the only person to whom Malfoy superiority meant nothing. He acknowledged it and dismissed it, it was infuriating. And yet...

This game that Potter proposed, the Question Game, he could learn about Potter, get the answers to the questions that had always plagued him. But they would be _Courting. _

It wasn't that Potter was a guy, a Malfoy appreciated beauty in all its forms, and Potter was, Draco grudgingly admitted, attractive in his own Potter sort of way. His eyes were phenomenal and underneath his abominable wardrobe despite the fact he was short and slender Draco knew he possessed plenty of ropy muscle. No, the problem with the courting would not be that they were un-attracted to each other. The problem would be that neither of them could be sure the other wasn't stringing him along to be publicly humiliated at some later date closely followed by the five years of built up enmity between them.

A sudden increase in noise in the corridor told Draco that he'd been chasing the idea in circles for a good half hour. He flicked his wand and Potter's note and the false courting proposal were reduced to ash. Let Astoria wonder how he'd slipped through the embarrassing little trap she'd tried to engineer. After all it wasn't his fault the Greengrasses were pushing for a betrothal contract and it wasn't as if he intended to agree to one. As for Potter...they were both too deeply involved in this now, any attempt to drag this into the light of day would incriminate and humiliate the both of them and Potter was no idiot, he could ill afford bad press these days.

Quickly Draco penned his reply and folded it into his traditional paper crane. This note though he wouldn't blow across a crowded classroom, no, this note would find its destination with discretion. He tucked the crane into the pocket he'd had sewn into his sleeve slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for Charms before he could chase the idea in yet another circle.

He made it into his usual seat beside Theo and in front of Crabbe and Goyle with only two minutes to spare. Potter, he noted, slid into the empty seat beside Longbottom and barely avoided being late. As Draco listened with half an ear to Flitwick's lecture on Slickening Charms he watched Potter for any sign of suspicious activity.

There was none. Draco knew all of the signs of Potter Agitation of which there were two types, Potter Rule-Breaking Agitation and Potter Heroic-Deeds-to-Follow Agitation. He was showing some Potter Suspicion and Potter Embarrassment, but that was more encouraging than if he'd been unaffected by this ridiculous spur of the moment proposal. It was spur of the moment, Draco was sure of that much at least. He'd been observing Potter and his methodology for five years, given the chance to think things through Potter often erred on the side of caution, any bold manoeuvre was done on a whim or because it was the heroic thing to do.

If Potter had wanted to be heroic he would have knuckled down and sent his courting proposal to the Weaslette. Merlin knew that red-head had it bad for St. Potter.

Draco nodded fractionally to himself. Potter's proposal was sincere, if impulsive, it would be safe enough to slip him the note and see what became of this Courting Game.

The opportunity to deposit the note without being seen as doing such came when Flitwick had them all practicing.

Theo had made a wider swath of slippery floor than he'd intended and Draco simply slid himself into Potter's desk put a hand down to 'steady himself' and slipped the crane in the middle of the reading they had to do for homework. It was a risk considering the recipient in question, but Potter did well in charms which meant he had to do his Charms homework eventually.

Now came the more difficult part, waiting for Potter's response. The ball was in the Gryffindor's court now.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>And there you have it, folks, hope you enjoyed! I would also like to thank the many people who reviewed, alerted, and favourited. It's always encouraging to get such an enthusiastic response and I appreciate you all taking the time to tell me what you feel be it good or bad. So on that note, please review and let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**The Courting Games**

**Chapter Three: Insomnia and Pretty Silver Nightmares**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter

**Author's Note:** First off, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited, and/or alerted, you guys rock, I'm glad you like it so far! Secondly as some of you may have noticed I've changed the rating to M, after writing this chapter I felt it was better to be safe than sorry, so to all of my readers **WARNING:** Suggestion of sexuality and sexual situations below that are **not appropriate for younger viewers!** **Reader discretion is advised!** I don't want to be held responsible for scarring some poor kid for life.

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><p>Harry sat up in bed sweating and panting as if he'd been actually running rather than in the grips of yet another dream about long corridors and rooms of doors. The snores of his dorm-mates were a soothing slice of normalcy after the urgency of the dream and Harry's breathing slowed to something more closely resembling normal. That dream again. Quite frankly Harry was willing to suffer through nightmares of bloody death and gore at this point just to get a change of scenery. His scar prickled slightly.<p>

With a sigh Harry groped for his glasses and slid them up his nose with a casual motion and then reached down beside his bed for his book bag.

Drawing his bed curtains shut and throwing up a quick muffling ward Harry gave his wand a funny little swirl and a glowing ball of soft blue and silver light floated up to hang directly above his bed giving him plenty of light to see by. He fished around for his ink bottle and then dumped the remaining contents of his bag out on the bedspread.

Harry surveyed his options. He discarded Potions immediately as he wasn't in the mood for that at all. That left a herbology paper that he would ask for Neville's help with later and Flitwick's essay on the uses of Slickening Charms. Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and, using his potions text as a desk, carefully wrote the title of the essay and his name. He turned to his textbook, flipping through the reading he had to do for homework, and was surprised to see a paper crane tucked between the pages as if it had every right to be there.

"How did Malfoy manage that?" he muttered.

He bit his lip and unfolded the crane slowly and carefully while his stomach tied itself up in knots and then began to flutter with nerves. At least, he reflected, Malfoy had responded secretively rather than dragging this whole business into the open air. He took a deep breath, looked down and began to read.

_If the Game is Questions, I certainly have a few for you. _

_Since when do you like blokes?_

_Have you gone completely mental?_

_Why do you want to play this game with me?_

_Is there some kind of limit on the kind of questions or the amount of them?_

_Is this a proper game or are you just toying?_

_I find myself endlessly curious as to just what has possessed you and agree that discretion is very necessary. Make no mistake, if this finds the light of day I can and will bury you. Also do not expect anything from me. I don't like you and I really don't like your friends and nothing has changed between us. _

Harry shook his head smiling slightly. Very typical Malfoy, insults and demands.

He grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment and carefully composed his responses trying to give as much detail as possible. Hopefully Malfoy would be courteous enough to do the same. The point of the Question Game was after all to get to know each other and Harry still held out the faint hope that the Malfoy heir was more than a pretty silver viper.

What he really had to do was hold Malfoy's interest. The blond appreciated skill in magic and sneakiness as well as elegance and wealth. A mischievous smirk twitched at the corner of Harry's lips. Charms homework forgotten Harry flipped to the section of the text he'd been reading the other night on simple conjuring, transfiguration would, of course, be easier but not nearly so impressive.

Holding his wand delicately Harry gave it a light swirl followed by the swish and flick motion that had been the bane of Ron's existence back in first year, holding the image he wanted in his mind before muttering the spell. Then, holding the unfinished conjuration with his wand, he pulled the advanced Charms text he'd been using to research how to better teach the Patronus Charm to the DA, when the time came, out from under his bed one-handed with a grunt. There had been some interesting little tricks he'd skimmed over in there. Flipping to the index he looked for the proper section. He bit his lip as he read the instructions and theory behind the charm he wanted. He had some natural talent at Charms, his mother's if the stories were to be believed, but he'd never attempted anything this complicated without instruction before.

"Better test it," he muttered letting the first conjuration dissipate.

He read the passage again more carefully, muttering the spell under his breath and practicing the accompanying wand movements. He shook his head. He much preferred offensive and defensive magic to Charms where intent meant more than the shaping of the spell. True masters of the Charms craft trained for years to see the complex webs the comparatively simple spells with their pernickety wand movements created.

With the same fussy motion of his wrist and wand Harry conjured a familiar little golden ball and with a sharp commanding stutter of his wand and another swirling flick the conjuration solidified and the second spell was set.

Holding his breath in anticipation, Harry tested his work, grinning when the snitch dissolved. He even giggled a bit at his accomplishment. All this studying was working to improve his skills, who would have thought. Carefully re-imagining the real conjuration he wanted Harry repeated the motions with exacting delicacy. He glanced around and with some difficulty pulled one of his pillow cases off its pillow one handed. Then he lowered his wand and let the finished product land on the bedspread without touching him. Then he wrapped it up in a tight little package with his pilfered pillow case.

Excitement welled in Harry's chest erasing the last of the lingering fatigue from his nightmare. With a curling motion of his hand he extinguished his witchlight, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and shoving his velvety scarlet hangings aside. Letting his eyes adjust to the dark Harry grabbed the Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak from their new hiding place in the hollowed out history text he had in his trunk.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he whispered, checking the password and the location of Malfoy in the Slytherin dorm.

He'd never tried sneaking into the Slytherin dorms after that incident with the polyjuice. This would be fun.

He scanned the map for potential difficulties. Filch was scouring the Astronomy Tower, Mrs. Norris was haunting the second floor Charms corridor, and Peeves was skulking around the Entrance Hall. Snape and Umbridge had both finished their rounds and were ensconced in their rooms most likely asleep since their dot labels were still.

Harry pulled on his thickest pair of woolen socks and a worn grey t-shirt and tied the little package he'd made out of the conjuration and the pillow case to his wrist tightly where it would be out of the way.

He padded out of the tower, avoiding waking the other boys and the Fat Lady with the ease of long practice. He quickly consulted the Map again by moonlight and satisfied that the way was clear he took the stairs two at a time and set off through the castle at a light jog.

He padded noiselessly through the castle not needing to conjure a light to find his way. Harry had haunted these halls many a night for the past five years and he knew his routes throughout the castle by heart even without the map and the light of the moon to guide him.

Harry tossed the Invisibility Cloak over his head and made sure the package was secure held against his wrist and his wand was ready. Getting in and out of the dorms would be the easy bit. Slytherin had no guardian choosing instead to rely on the anonymity of a wall in a castle full of walls just like it, the secrecy of their passwords their only other protection. They changed them twice as often as the other houses. Mistrustful bastards. Not that they weren't right to do it with the amount of bad feeling they stirred up amongst the members of the other houses. If they were anything less than vigilant and the lot of them would find themselves with dyed hair and shredded hangings and other nastier surprises.

He checked to make sure all the Slytherins were either asleep or at least in their dorms exercising their right to extracurricular activities. The way was still clear, not that he'd really been expecting any company, only the Ravenclaws and Hermione would be up studying at this hour and as far as Harry knew he was the only chronic wandering insomniac.

"Silver Chalice," he whispered nearly pressed up against the wall.

The wall slid aside and when the gap was wide enough Harry slid inside and moved nimbly from shadow to shadow inching along the wall of the gloomy if elegant common room towards the fifth year boys' dormitory. Harry reflected that it really was lucky he was trying to get into the boys' rooms and not the girls' because all the male detecting booby traps made that about ten times more difficult. He pitied any man who wanted to attract the attention of a Slytherin girl for the sheer difficulty of the tasks ahead of them.

The Slytherin dorms, unlike the Gryffindor ones, were not large rooms filled with multiple beds and connected to a communal bathroom but a corridor with four smaller rooms every two connected to an ensuite and there was plenty of room for more rooms. According to the plaques on the doors Crabbe and Goyle shared the room on the right but Nott, Zabini, and Malfoy each had their own room, another aspect of Slytherin living that made clandestine visits that much easier.

The lock on the door was easily taken care of by a simple alohomora, but Harry didn't make the mistake of believing his work was done. A quick flick of his wrist and the same mild sleeping charm used on the errant portraits of Grimmauld Place ensured that Malfoy wouldn't spoil the fun by waking up at the wrong moment. Cautiously, moving his cloak to one side to allow himself to see clearly, he cast a revealing spell. He'd learned it at the end of second year when he'd had that perfectly rational paranoia thing about diaries, and squinted as the faint glow of curses on the threshold around the bed and many of Malfoy's personal items.

With a sigh Harry realized that he had no idea what most of the curses Malfoy used did let alone how to undo them. There was no help for it, he was going to have to physically avoid the curses. Checking the map again Harry carefully drew off the cloak and folded it up tucking it into his pocket where it bulged annoyingly but at least was out of the way.

He studied the glow of the curses carefully looking for a way to trip the actual curse part that could be physically avoided rather than the alert ward which would wake Malfoy and make him a target. Too bad Malfoy didn't copy Madam Pomfrey's alert wards. He'd had more practice getting out of the hospital wing undetected then was really healthy. The alert ward was only present from the ground up to the knee and tripping it gave a punishment that was loud and probably humiliating but not painful, that was for people stupid enough to try for no good reason. The ward right behind it was for the people with good reason and its payload would undoubtedly be less pleasant. The aura was red so Harry was thinking knives or slashing curses something like that. Hopefully it was quiet or this whole trip would be for nothing.

Harry studied the room. If something went wrong and he woke Malfoy or someone else in the dorm he would need to hunker down where he wouldn't be easily discovered. Harry picked a likely spot under Malfoy's too large desk.

Harry took a deep breath, he hadn't done this in awhile but he did still remember how. Gathering his Gryffindor courage Harry took a few running steps and dived over the alert ward into the more dangerous threshold ward, and rolled neatly away. Then, with only the soft whoosh of forcefully expelled breath to betray him, he lay flat as the veritable wall of cutting curses whizzed by about six inches above his nose. They dissolved when they hit the wall and were quiet and there were only two volleys before the ward reset. Small favors.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when no alarms blared and he didn't trigger any better hidden booby traps and relaxed onto the stone floor of Malfoy's room for half a second. His back would be one big bruise in the morning no doubt.

After a moment he got to his feet. He hadn't come this far for some sleepless Slytherin to see Malfoy's door open and come investigate after all.

The wards on the bed were easier to circumvent but it would be a simple thing to wake Malfoy while he was doing the circumventing. Luckily the Slytherin dorms were furnished with the same sturdy walnut four posters and velvet hangings as Gryffindor. He'd done this before successfully as well, and certainly more recently than he'd done the dive-roll, it was just a matter of doing it gently this time. Harry shot another sleeping spell at Malfoy without compunction and then tucked his wand back into the top of his sock.

Harry took another few running steps, jumped up to grab the top of the frame that held the hangings and, straining his muscles, tried to swing gently onto the mattress. He flopped rather gracelessly onto the green bedspread beside Malfoy trying not to jostle the blond awake. He froze fear making his heart pound as the blond shifted in his sleep, and then let out a soft little snore.

Harry quickly clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing, whether mockingly, in hysterical relief at not being discovered, or because that little noise out of pretty much anyone else would have been absolutely adorable he didn't know or care to examine.

Malfoy was sleeping soundly, two sleeping spells would do that to you, sprawled out on his back with one arm tossed above his rumpled silver blond head and the other straight out to one side. His mouth was slightly open and he was breathing deeply and evenly. Harry propped himself up on his elbow and took a good long look at the other boy. With his features relaxed in sleep instead of pulled tight in his usual ugly sneer and the moonlight turning his pale hair and skin ethereal silver, Harry could easily see how Draco Malfoy might be considered attractive.

Carefully Harry untied the package he'd made with his pillow case to carry the conjuration this far. Moving very slowly he held the box he'd conjured from the bottom with the white and scarlet square of fabric and ran the top of it over Malfoy's hand. Sure now that the box wouldn't dissolve until next Malfoy touched it Harry opened the little box and tucked the folded up parchment with his answer to Malfoy's note inside. He reached over Malfoy and set it on the bedside table next to the other wizard's wand where it would be noticed in the morning.

Malfoy shifted again and Harry froze hovering over him like the ghost of frickin' Christmas Past. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead, his arms began to quiver with the strain of holding himself still and he became aware of a slow curling of heat under his belly button.

Harry bit his lip. His face was only a few inches away from Malfoy's.

"I have to know if this is all gonna be worth it," he whispered semi-apologetically not that Malfoy could hear him.

Carefully he leaned down and trying to control his racing heart and heavy breathing just brushed Malfoy's lips with his own. Maybe it was the excitement of being discovered at any moment or the lure of the forbidden or the adrenaline pumping through his system on overdrive, maybe Harry really just didn't know when he was attracted to someone. Either way when his lips touched Malfoy's for that brief half-second the slow curl of heat pooling in his lower abdomen became a jolt of unmistakable lust and Harry jerked away from Malfoy as if burned.

The Slytherin for his part just let out another soft not-quite-a-snore.

Thoroughly disquieted and with his mission accomplished Harry moved to the foot of the bed and took a firm hold of the walnut post above him.

He swung back out of the bed, thanking whoever cared to listen that the wards on the threshold were only one way, tossed his invisibility cloak over his head and hurried out of the room taking care to close and lock the door behind him.

Harry froze as the echo of another door unlocking sounded, very loud in the silence of the fifth year dorm. He pressed himself tightly against Malfoy's door and waited, not daring to even breathe too loudly. If he was discovered here there was no telling what kind of damage the Slytherins loyal to Voldemort might inflict before turning him over to Snape and Dumbledore, or if they would even bother with the school rules and not just kill him, or capture him and take him to their master for killing.

The door across the hall and on a diagonal from Malfoy's swung open and a slim little blonde who had to be younger than Ginny and Luna wearing a short pink and white nightie slipped out grinning like a fool.

"Thanks for this Zabini," she muttered breathily.

Blaise Zabini appeared in the doorway wearing a sly smile and nothing else without even a hint of embarrassment. Not that Zabini had anything to be embarrassed about. The dark skinned Slytherin was toned, sculpted, and quite frankly beautiful. Harry forcibly kept his wandering eyes above the waist.

"Any time, Tor," he said in a low voice, bending to kiss the blonde.

"Ah, ah, ah...no more of that," she said as she broke away, "I've got Vector first thing,"

"Pity,"

"I'll see you later," she said saucily, padding down the hall.

Zabini gave her a parting smack on the ass and then watched her disappear down the stairs. He stood there for a good three minutes after that as well. While Harry began to sweat and chew his bottom lip nervously and resisted the urge to let his eyes drop, just once, purely for the academics of the thing.

"Alright, you can come out now," he said to the hall.

Harry's frantically pounding heart leapt up into his throat and he prepared to make a run for it when a little ways down the hall a low voice let out a quiet rumbling chuckle and a masterful disillusionment charm dissolved and, with a slight shake of his shaggy blond hair, sixth year Quidditch Captain Charles Warrington moved closer to Zabini.

Warrington had the girl's milky skin and golden hair but that was where the similarities ended as Warrington was what some might call towering and every inch of him was covered in thick muscle and a good bit of that muscle was sprinkled generously with dusty gold hair. A fact Harry was privy to as Warrington was wearing even less than the girl, though thankfully more than Zabini. If he'd had any doubts about his sexuality they had pretty much fled in the wake of his experiences tonight.

Then a thought penetrated his lust fogged brain. Just how long had Warrington been there, and what had he seen?

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about our little arrangement," he said giving Zabini a long slow once over with leering eyes.

Harry really couldn't help it, his eyes flicked down and then quickly back up. He was so very glad he was invisible right now because judging by the blood rushing to his face and other places if he wasn't he'd have died of embarrassment. Maybe it was time to read Hermione's book.

"Now, now, Charles, no need for jealously. Astoria is merely a friend in need of comfort,"

Warrington snorted.

"Comfort my ass."

"I would love to."

"If that little witch bitch wanted comfort she would have been the one slipping out of Malfoy's room tonight. As it is she needs someone to take her in hand. She's already ruined a potential alliance with the wealthiest most influential family in Britain and most of France on a whim."

Zabini raised an eyebrow.

"Draco was entertaining tonight? Who?"

"Didn't see, not Parkinson, whoever it was they were discreet I wouldn't have even known if I hadn't seen the door close coming up the stairs. They went out the front way towards the common room."

"Hmm, interesting."

"Enough gossip, I want to get some sleep tonight," Warrington said shortly taking Zabini by the shoulders and jerking him closer.

"What? You have Vector first thing tomorrow too?" mocked Zabini.

"Sure you're up to a real go at it after nailing the little tart to your mattress?"

"Feel for yourself," purred, that was the only way Harry could think to describe it, Zabini as he circled his hips against Warrington's.

Harry shut his eyes held his breath and thanked Merlin when Zabini's door slammed shut. He let out a shuddering breath and slumped against Malfoy's door trying to picture Umbridge naked until he was able to move.

He took more care whilst escaping the Snake Pit itself after that and then, to appease his frayed nerves, sprinted from the dungeons back up to Gryffindor Tower and, huffing and puffing, woke the Fat Lady to let him back in.

He shucked off the cloak, flush with success, embarrassment, arousal, and the exertion of his run threw himself back into bed.

He lay there panting for a good five minutes.

"I am in terrible shape, Dudley's gang would have caught me for sure if I'd been running from them," he muttered to the red velvet canopy above him.

It was better than the litany of 'I am such a bloody perv,' that was actually running through his mind.

He lay there for hours trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach and then trying to block out the memory of the feel of Malfoy's lips long enough for him to fall asleep but every time he closed his eyes his mind brought him back to the dungeons and the _other_ incident he was trying not to remember.

Around five-thirty he gave up on sleep and took one of the pepper-up potions he'd stolen from the Hospital Wing for just such a sleepless night. Thoroughly wired he got the brilliant idea that a nice long run, one that left him too exhausted to move, might clear his mind enough to let him focus on the day's lessons.

Plan in hand Harry gathered up a clean uniform and shoved it in his book bag with his books, thought of about ten inappropriate uses for Slickening Charms as he packed his unfinished Charms work before he could stop himself, and dressed in a pair of loose tracksuit bottoms and his grey t-shirt. Harry snuck back out of Gryffindor Tower without the map, cloak or any trouble and stowing his gear in his locker in the Gryffindor change room went for a few laps around the lake.

Panting and sweating as he pushed his body to the limit Harry's uncomfortable thoughts fell away until there was only the steady pounding of his heart and his feet hitting the ground.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> And there you have it folks...

Now we have a better idea of why Astoria doesn't want to marry Draco, and just how different Slytherin living is from the Gryffindor kind. Let me know what you guys think, too racy? Unrealistic?

Reviews are awesome in so many ways, and now they just got better! Do you have a question you'd like Harry to ask Draco or vice versa? Now's your chance to discover your favorite boy's deepest darkest secrets, because for a limited time if you send me a question you want answered I will include it in the Q and As for the Question Game (provided the question is of course semi-relevant and appropriate for the story, in this I will use my own discretion). Some restrictions apply see store for details...


	4. Chapter 4

**The Courting Games**

**Chapter Four: Intriguing**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted and favorited. You guys are awesome! Now on to the good stuff...

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><p>"Draco! Draco!"<p>

The voice calling him was annoyed and whiny and unmistakably that of Pansy Parkinson, which was odd because she hadn't been in his room for the better part of a year and a half now.

"Pans?" he murmured.

"Finally you're awake, and what have I told you about using that dreadful nickname," she said with a long suffering sigh.

"That you would hex my hair purple if I did it again," he recalled after some sluggish thought.

He blinked his eyes open with some difficulty.

"Just be glad I'm feeling lenient and forgiving," she sniffed delicately.

"What are you doing in my room?"

"Darling, I am the only one in the dungeons, bar Professor Snape, who can undo your little wall of death, you were about to oversleep Professor Umbridge's little chat and Theodore had mercy on your lazy arse and came to fetch me."

Draco sat up and blinked trying to shake off his sudden lethargy, he hadn't slept past six thirty on a school day since before he'd ever attended Hogwarts and a quick glance at the clock on the wall above his desk revealed that it was now seven fifteen. Breakfast was served between seven thirty and nine thirty even though classes started at nine, and the High Inquisitor had called her meeting for seven forty five neatly ruining Draco's accustomed morning routine. A fact that did not endear her to him no matter how much power she was able to bestow upon him.

"Thanks, Pansy," he murmured distractedly stripping out of his shirt.

"And if that sight doesn't get more delicious every year I swear to Salazar I will marry Eloise Midgen," Pansy said to herself as she flounced out of his bedroom shutting the door behind her.

Ah Pansy, it was so gratifying to know that whenever he was beginning to think he might not be actually one hundred percent confident in his unquestionable superiority all he had to do was take off his shirt and she would perform an instant unsolicited and completely sincere ego boost with her not so quiet comments.

Draco continued undressing and had a disappointingly quick and infuriatingly cold shower to shock himself into wakefulness before sauntering back out the bathroom he shared with Nott. Absently he thanked Merlin that it had been decided two years ago that Zabini had to share with Crabbe and Goyle because they were the only two people in Slytherin that he wouldn't cheerfully fuck. Draco had been forced to share with those two in first year and they were so damn slow in the mornings. Nott could at least be counted on to be up and out of the bathroom before Draco was even stirring.

He was glancing around for his wand so that he could summon his favourite pair of uniform trousers, it was going to be that kind of day, he could tell, and it would be ten times more palatable if he didn't have to worry about chafing or wrinkles, when he spotted the box. It was done in a gorgeous dark wood emblazoned with a snake wrapped around a shield clearly expensive and of exquisite craftsmanship.

Now Draco, being an obsessively possessive person, his mother said he got it from her side of the family, knew that this particular box wasn't his and hadn't been sitting on his nightstand last night. Warily he picked up his wand and cast every revealing charm he knew on the box. They all came back negative for anything hostile. The object was enchanted but whatever it was enchanted with wasn't meant to harm him.

Draco twirled his wand in his fingers thoughtfully. Did he really want to risk opening it? He glanced at his watch and swore since there was no one around to hear him. If he didn't go now he was going to be late for the meeting. He snatched up the box, resolving to examine it more closely before breakfast, and shoved it into his robe pocket before slinging his book bag over one shoulder and striding briskly from the room.

He nodded briefly to the few acquaintances he had in the other years that were loitering about in the ornate green velvet and blackwood wing backed chairs waiting for friends or doing a last minute revision of their homework and pointedly ignored a smug looking Astoria as he exited the common room. As if he cared what she did to rebel against her parents and subsequently ruin her life.

The wall slid aside and Draco slipped out of the common room and navigated the familiar path out of the dungeons, skipping the Great Hall and taking the short cut up to the defence classroom. He slid into the empty seat beside Pansy with five minutes to spare and got a curious look or two. Malfoys, after all, were never late, they arrived precisely when it suited them, and it had in the weeks previous suited Draco to make his support of Umbridge clear by being punctual and even early. He'd acquiesced to every one of her demands and been forced to curse no less than thirteen Slytherins who saw this as a sign of his absolute hold over Slytherin's lower years breaking.

Which was of course nonsense.

Even if he went completely round the bend and threw in his lot with Burbage and hailed muggles as the saviours of the wizarding world the Slytherins in the lower years, the ones whose families were not third generation Death Eaters anyway, would still support him. After all he tutored Potions and Arithmacy up to fifth year and could be approached for homework help in most of the other subjects, he taught the first years their warming charms the first day of school so they didn't freeze in the dungeons even before he was a prefect, he acted as house representative and stuck his own neck out to bring complaints to Snape, he took revenge for those who could not enact their own with the other houses, he'd upgraded the brooms for the Slytherin quidditch team, and he could out fly any seeker bar Potter. The fact that he was pureblooded, handsome, rich, had connections pretty much everywhere thanks to his father and was a third generation dark supporter were just bonuses.

Of course then there were those who found him to be an arrogant little berk who'd used Daddy's money and influence to buy and threaten his way to the top spot and thought his rivalry with Potter was hurting the Slytherin reputation. A few well-placed curses usually silenced them quickly enough.

"Hem, hem."

Draco was jolted out of his musings by the sickly sweet little fake cough that grated on his last nerve and was the trademark of Professor Umbridge.

"Good morning Inquisitorial Squad," she said with a blatantly false smile.

"Good morning Professor Umbridge," they chorused obediently.

Some of the older years were openly sneering or scowling, but Umbridge didn't seem to notice or mind, Draco kept his features relaxed and let his eyes hood slightly. A calculated expression to indicate a sort of business as usual, lazy interest.

"Now, with the Educational Decrees 24 and 25 we will have to be increasingly vigilant in the pursuit of rule-breakers and the so called rebels. Groups of students must be inspected for signs of clandestine gathering, or romantic liaisons. Any student found infringing will receive a deduction of twenty house points on the spot and is then to be brought to my attention for further punishment that will vary from detentions to loss of privileges to expulsion depending on the severity of the infraction. I want special attention paid to Harry Potter and his associates, as well as the two older Weasley boys. They are the primary rule breakers in class and there are rumours that Mr. Potter has formed an illegal group with the intent of helping Dumbledore to overthrow the ministry."

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes and he heard a poorly concealed snort from Goyle who was sitting behind him. If Potter was plotting to overthrow the Ministry he would marry a muggle. More likely he was plotting the mysterious death or disappearance of yet another DADA professor, but then again who wasn't these days?

"The Weasley twins are suspected of smuggling contraband into the castle, though this is a comparatively minor infraction, it is no less dangerous. The contraband will undoubtedly be used to incite riot and rebellion against ministry policy and that is simply not acceptable. Any charges that can be brought against them should be brought against them. Now, I am counting on you to maintain order in the general population as I will be quite busy with my staff evaluations in the coming weeks. Are there any questions?"

She waited but there was no response from the Inquisitorial Squad, they might as well have been stuffed dolls.

"Excellent, then this meeting is adjourned. I will see you all at breakfast," she said before striding out of the door, her pink heels making annoying clacking sounds on the stone.

"Why are we throwing our weight behind this fashion challenged toad-like monstrosity, Draco?" Pansy demanded in a low voice as the other Slytherins filed out of the Defence classroom.

"Because Umbridge, for all of her faults, is elevating us to power while simultaneously ridding Dumbledore of his," Draco explained patiently.

"Couldn't we support some other candidate?" she whined.

"No, she is uniquely qualified for the job as she has the Minister's complete unquestioning support and her agenda lies parallel to our own, besides even if my father could get another candidate in place, her foothold is already strong and it would be a waste of time and energy. Umbridge is a necessary evil in the grand scheme of things."

"At least Dumbledore never wore pink bows or said hem hem," sneered Pansy.

"True," Draco sighed shoving his hands in his pockets.

When his fingers encountered not the pretty enchanted box as he had expected but a folded slip of parchment he paused.

"Draco? Aren't you coming for breakfast?" asked Pansy.

"I'll be down later, there is something I want to check," he said.

"Alright, but if you're late for McGonagall's class you'll lose us points," she reminded him warningly before continuing on her way.

Draco meandered up a floor, trying to contain his curiosity and walk in his normal arrogant saunter. To keep up appearances he stopped and took five points from Ravenclaw for gum chewing, and another ten from Gryffindor for loitering. He then slipped into one of the many abandoned classrooms, warded it against intrusion, took care of the dust and pulled the note out of his pocket.

He had to admit he was impressed and more than a little excited. Who knew that Potter had such a hold over advanced charms? His performance in class certainly had never indicated anything of the sort. On the contrary before today Draco would have said Potter's charm work was passable or satisfactory, not anything to get excited over. Yet, Potter had conjured that exquisite box, enchanted it with a time delay of some kind snuck into the Slytherin dorms, found his room, gotten past his wards and escaped undetected. He would be lying if he said that such a display of ability and cunning didn't send a frisson of arousal through him. Potter should have been a Slytherin, he thought as he unfolded the note.

_Well, this is a pleasant surprise, I was expecting to have to defend my integrity against what was clearly an embarrassing Slytherin smear campaign. I'm glad however that I don't have to. As to your questions..._

_I never really thought about whether or not I liked blokes until it turned out that I really wanted nothing to do with birds, romantically anyway. I'm still not entirely sure but I figure if I was going to be attracted to a bloke he would have to be good-looking and even I have to admit you're easy on the eyes. _

_Have I gone mental? Yeah, probably, but I'm enjoying it so far._

_I want to play this game with you as opposed to anyone else because whatever else is between us, you and I make sparks fly. If you'll pardon my use of a muggle saying, we have chemistry. Additionally, you don't need or want to use me for the status boost, which is a relief. _

_I don't think we need a limit on the questions, do you? Anything we don't want to answer we don't have to and as to the sheer number of questions, well it would take longer to answer and be more difficult to hide the more questions you asked but I'm game if you are. _

_It seems like a lot of trouble to go through just to toy with you, doesn't it? Think about it for a second, I'm risking my reputation, my integrity, total embarrassment and quite possibly my physical well-being to correspond with you. Tonight I plan on sneaking into the Slytherin dorms for the sake of your undivided attention and I've just spent a few paragraphs explaining about my feelings. Yeah, I'd say I'm toying with you. _

Draco couldn't contain a surprised chuckle as Potter's sarcasm practically dripped off the page.

_Now for my questions. _

_What do you get out of this? I know you wouldn't have agreed unless you thought it would benefit you, so what is the benefit? For the life of me I can't think of what it might be._

_What do you do in your spare time? What would you like to be doing in your spare time? Do you consider spare time to be time where you aren't controlled by compulsory obligations, or do you feel it's when you just have nothing to do?_

_Did you ever want siblings? Do you have any other family that you're close to? Cousins? What's your middle name?_

_What is your favourite room in Hogwarts? What about at home?_

_Since when do you play for the home team? Did you and Pansy ever actually get together or is she just that clingy?_

_What is your favourite color? Food? Professional Quidditch Team? Subject? And why?_

_How long do you spend on your hair in the morning? If Hogwarts didn't have uniforms what would you wear and why?_

_Well, it's getting late and I still have an impossible mission to accomplish by morning. So, I guess I eagerly await your answers. _

_Sweet Dreams._

Draco glanced at his watch. It was quarter after eight, he had just enough time to answer Potter's questions, grab a quick breakfast and make it to transfiguration on time. He rummaged around in his book bag until he came up with a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill. He was surprised to find that he was smiling slightly even as he practically filled the page with paragraphs of his neat handwriting. It really was a good thing this little affair was a secret, as Potter was threatening to make him lose his Malfoy decorum. After all Malfoys didn't smile in public, they smirked, because Malfoys were not happy, joyous, content or gleeful, they were merely smugly superior.

Draco glanced at his watch again. There was no more time even though he was practically bursting with questions for Potter. The current volume would have to do. And it was practically a volume. Two full sheets of parchment filled with questions and answers. It was too much to fold into origami, so he rolled it up and sealed it with a blob of black wax.

"_Reducio,_" he muttered and the roll shrank to just two inches long.

He hid the scroll up his sleeve and made his way down to breakfast, disappointed that he had no time to stop and round out this morning's deduction of points with five from Hufflepuff for using magic in the corridors. If he stopped he wouldn't get breakfast and if he didn't get breakfast not only would he be hungry but he ran the risk of having his stomach growl in public. Malfoy stomachs did not growl.

Pansy, Morgana bless her, had made him a bacon sandwich and put together a bowl of his favourite fruits. He would have to find some discrete way of repaying the favour later provided of course she didn't already have something in mind.

He ate his breakfast with a tad more haste than was strictly seemly but made it to Transfiguration on time and avoided both hunger and a point deduction. All in all rather well played if Draco said so himself. And he did. Malfoys were not above self-congratulation after all.

McGonagall walked into the class looking tired and annoyed, and Draco was instantly glad he'd not risked being late as the formidable Transfiguration professor looked ready to crucify anyone who crossed her. Umbridge must have called an early staff meeting to monologue on and on about the repercussions of the two new educational decrees and remind everyone she now had the power to sack them by bringing up the reviews she was conducting. If only he could be a witness to her going head to head with Professor Snape, that would be a real treat. Snape would eat her alive and use what was left for potions ingredients. Extract of toad.

"Now, I cannot stress how important it is that you pay careful attention to today's lesson as we will be moving on from the transfiguration of animate to inanimate objects to the basic transfiguration of animate to animate objects. It might interest you all to note that the mastery of this branch of transfiguration is the first step to becoming an animagus. Now who can tell me how the formula for this kind of transfiguration differs from that of the transfiguration of inanimate objects?"

Granger's hand went up almost immediately as did Daphne Greengrass' Draco thought about it for a moment and raised his hand as well but McGonagall was looking for a victim and Potter looked like someone had run him over with the Knight Bus and was resting his chin on his folded arms.

"Mr. Potter, perhaps you can shed some light on the subject, that is if we're not boring you."

"Not at all, Professor," he yawned and then grinned sheepishly, "Sorry, Professor, right, the formula for inanimate objects is fixed, size, weight, and the conservation of mass and energy. Animate to animate transfiguration uses more power to overcome the conservation laws, so the only two things that are fixed are level of sentience and level of magical power. For example, if you took a horse and transfigured it into a unicorn, it would only look like a unicorn it wouldn't have the ability to purify water and it would be perfectly content to hang out with the guys, but if you took a Phoenix and you transfigured it into an ostrich the magical potential would still be there and so would the smarts."

McGonagall's lips uncompressed slightly and it seemed that Potter's explanation, despite the fact that he was yawning through it, had improved her mood.

"That is correct, five points to Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. Miss. Greengrass, can you enlighten the class as to what the incantation for this change is?"

Draco listened with half an ear to Daphne's answer as he watched the Golden Trio. Granger was giving Potter a proud look while the Weasel looked like he was ready to check his friend for Imperius and polyjuice. Potter, for his part was scribbling slowly as McGonagall launched into an explanation of how the spell was created it's different components and which component corresponded to which wand movement or the enunciation of the incantation as well as enumerating the potential disasters that lurked just around the corner, resting his head on his arm and looking moments away from nodding off. Draco couldn't help but be impressed, and he wondered why Potter never applied himself more in class or at his homework.

They left Transfiguration with cramping fingers, a massive stack of notes, and the promise that those who did not receive at least an Acceptable on the essay she assigned on the hazardous nature of animate to animate object transfiguration would not be allowed to participate in the practical application next lesson and would not only re-write the essay but spend their lunch break making up the practical.

Draco sighed, there went his evening, because undoubtedly Snape would assign something equally difficult and he would be flooded with questions.

He spotted Potter, Granger and the Weasel walking a little ways ahead and allowed himself a small smirk, Potter had taken off his robe and rolled up his sleeves, perfect. Draco pulled the tiny scroll from his sleeve and prepared to make his move.

He picked up his pace, lengthened his stride, braced himself and unceremoniously slammed half of his body into Potter's slight frame quickly slipping his hand into his left back pocket stealing a quick grope as well as accomplishing his goal. Potter, not expecting the sudden impact at all, stumbled into the Weasel who glared, incensed.

"Oi, watch where you're going ferret-face!" he snapped.

Draco, who by this point was several steps ahead, turned and glanced over his shoulder striving for cool disdain even though the ferret face comment really deserved answering for. Cursing the Weasel, however, would not get him in Potter's good books which, he was perfectly capable of admitting in the privacy of his own mind, was what he wanted. It was worth letting the insult slide.

"I'm sorry Weasel, were you asking me if I'd like to take five points each for being slovenly, having hair so disturbingly red, and holding up traffic in the halls?" he asked arching an eyebrow and flicking his eyes up and down Potter's body, using his uniform modifications to give him a thorough once over.

Draco was gratified to see a slight pink tinge appear on the Boy Wonder's cheeks even as Granger stomped on the Weasel's foot to keep him from opening his mouth and losing them all house points. Something they really couldn't afford given the amount of points their house lost on average per day under the new management.

"I didn't think so," he said turning on his heel and continuing to Potions a satisfied smirk making his lip twitch.

Potter really did have a great ass.

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>Like it? Hate it? Think the Slytherins are too nice? Have suggestions on how Harry and Draco should kill Umbridge and make it look like an accident? Want to see Dumbledore in robes with tap dancing pineapples on them? Please review and let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

**The Courting Games**

**Chapter Five: Books and Cleverness**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**Author's Note:** Welcome to another chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favourited, you guys are a little scary and homicidal but I love you anyway! (Seriously you guys have given this kill Umbridge thing waaaaaaaaaaaay too much thought *winks*). And by popular vote, Dumbledore will be making an appearance in robes with tap dancing pineapples on them sometime in the near future.

Now on to the story!

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><p>Malfoy really did have a great ass, Harry reflected, watching the blond saunter off like he owned the castle.<p>

"Git, strutting around like he owns the bloody world," muttered Ron angrily.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Ron you know what Malfoy on a power trip is like. I don't get why you constantly pick a fight when you know you're gonna get burned for it."

Ron snorted.

"Coming from the guy who has detention from now until the end of seventh year that means...absolutely nothing," Ron commented grinning and slinging a long arm around Harry's shoulders.

"You could _both_ stand to exercise some self-control, they wouldn't look nearly as smug if you didn't rise to their bait every single time," Hermione said pointedly.

"True but we'd have less fun," Harry said.

"Boys, honestly, this is right up there with the fascination with sports, blowing things up, and the inability to ask for directions."

Ron hooked his other arm around Hermione's waist.

"You wouldn't have us any other way," he declared smugly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was grinning broadly so Harry had to agree with Ron's assessment. They stayed that way all the way down to the dungeons. The door to the potions classroom swung open and Snape appeared looking distinctly irritated.

"Weasley, stop mauling Potter and Granger, ten points from Gryffindor," snapped Snape.

The Slytherins snickered as the trio separated begrudgingly and the students filed into the classroom. Harry, Ron and Hermione claimed their usual bench at the back and Neville slid in next to Hermione. They took out their parchment quills and their copies of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. The door slammed shut with a loud bang and the students fell immediately silent as they turned their attention to the front of the classroom.

It became immediately apparent what had put Snape in what had to be the foulest mood Harry had seen him in since his first day of potions class.

"You will notice that we have a guest with us today," he said in his usual low sneering voice, his lips curling away from his teeth slightly as he gestured to the dim corner to the right of the blackboard where Umbridge perched on a stool, legs crossed and a clipboard leaning against her knee.

Snape and Umbridge, the two people in Hogwarts he hated most right now. It wasn't difficult to decide who he was rooting for. Snape may have hated him on sight and tried to get him expelled several times as well as making his classes a living hell, but he had never tortured him, he didn't lie or wear pink or pretend to clear his throat. Right now it was his dearest wish to watch Umbridge as her self-esteem was slashed to ribbons by Snape's razor wit. A sentiment he was pretty sure was supported by everyone in the room.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson. If correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend. Instructions," he said waving his wand, "Are on the board. Carry on."

The instructions appeared in their usual neat block letters on the blackboard. Harry chewed his lower lip trying to decide, should he write off the lesson and focus on watching Umbridge? Or should he focus on the potion since for once it looked close to Hermione's and if he got this next half right he might get an Exceeds Expectations on his practical work? Honestly, between his nightmares, sneaking into the Slytherin common room and his run that morning, he really just did not want to make trouble for himself, he was too tired. With a regretful sigh he bent to his potion and completely ignored Umbridge as she started making notes.

Harry had just added a few drops of the salamander blood turning his potion from turquoise to a sort of purplish pink color when he heard the click of high heels on the stones of the dungeon floor. He charmed his spoon to self-stir and sat back to watch the proceedings with relish.

Snape was leaning over Dean's cauldron instructing him caustically on how to turn his potion from a sparking green mess back to something resembling correct.

"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," said Umbridge briskly to Snape's back, "Though I would question whether or not it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

Snape, straightened slowly, and arched an eyebrow at her as if he couldn't really believe she dared interrupt him.

Umbridge for her part made a quick note on her clipboard.

"Now, how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?"

"Fourteen years," said Snape his words slow and measured but distinctly clipped.

"As I understand it you applied for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position."

"Yes."

"But were unsuccessful."

"Obviously," sneered Snape.

"And though you have reapplied each year you have been consistently denied the position."

"Indeed."

"Have you any idea as to why Dumbledore continues to deny your request for transfer?"

"I suggest you ask him."

"Oh, I shall."

"I suppose there is some relevance to this line of questioning."

"Oh, yes, the Ministry wants a very thorough understanding of the teachers'...backgrounds..." said Umbridge sweetly.

Harry wondered if she knew that Snape's background included a thorough study of the dark arts and a place in Voldemort's inner circle. He suspected not else she wouldn't be so flippant about the sheer intensity of the black rage that emanated from the Slytherin Head of House.

Umbridge turned to survey the classroom and her eyes locked on him and a nasty smile spread across her toad-like face. Harry gave a little internal sigh, here they went again.

"Mr. Potter, how do you find Professor Snape as an educator?" she asked him.

It was a blatant trap, suck up and diminish a Dumbledore appointed professor's credibility or say Snape sucked and take the fallout of his wrath. Well, Harry was used to Snape's wrath and he'd rather keep a wrathful Snape than have another Ministry toady appointed in his place.

"To be honest, I don't like Professor Snape and I never have, his teaching methods leave everything to be desired and not only does he blatantly favour Slytherin house, but he also has been harassing me personally for years," said Harry in a low and bitterly disgruntled voice.

"Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Potter," she said smiling sickeningly and making another note on her clipboard.

Umbridge made a few notes on her clipboard and moved on to Pansy Parkinson who immediately began hotly extolling Snape's many and varied virtues. Harry couldn't have planned the contrast better if he'd tried. Snape stalked over to Harry's work station his black robes billowing behind him in a singularly menacing fashion. He examined Harry's potion carefully but it was the proper color as described by the instructions and only a shade off from Hermione's own perfect potion.

"10 points from Gryffindor for that little speech. Bottle that, Potter, and start on the homework. I will speak to you after class," he hissed in a low angry voice.

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed.

Snape then turned around to snap at Parvati for adding pomegranate juice instead of her salamander blood.

It could have been worse. Harry reminded himself, as he carefully bottled and stoppered his completed potion. Snape could have given him detention, or a punishment essay. Hermione was beaming at him proudly, while Neville was trembling slightly in fear.

"Good on you, mate," Ron mouthed.

Across the classroom Malfoy turned briefly in his seat ostensibly to consult with Theodore Nott who was sitting behind him. Their eyes met across the crowded classroom and his lips twitched upward on the one side as he gave a barely there nod of acknowledgement.

With his potion actually done on time and to the specifications he was able to actually finish his potions homework in class and have Hermione's whispered help when he got stuck on a question. If it weren't for the hazard of Snape's wrath, and Neville and Ron brewing on either side of him he might have actually enjoyed the class and found it useful and productive. Maybe he would finish Snape's essay tonight in the common room and get it out of the way.

Neville had given him what he needed for Sprout's essay at breakfast so if he was fast he might be able to get two done tonight, he was going to need another source for McGonagall's essay, maybe two, but he didn't want to borrow Hermione's because for once he wanted his Head of House to see that he took her class seriously. He'd already skived off History of Magic to get Hedwig to Professor Grubbly-Plank so he couldn't skip Divination but he could at least start his Charms essay, Trelawney would never notice. Then he could go to the library during lunch, answer Malfoy's questions, get the books he needed for McGonagall and now that he thought about it maybe a secondary source would get him a better grade on his Potions essay, Merlin knew he could use one. If he got Potions and Herbology both done after dinner tonight he could finish Charms when he inevitably woke up in the middle of the night and then all he would have to do would be McGonagall's essay and whatever Trelawney assigned for homework...and good grief he was turning into Hermione.

Despite that thought Harry's brain was bursting with plans on how to spend his extra time. He could set up an obstacle course for the DA and he wanted to teach them _Reducto_ and _Bombarda_. He would do it after the course though so that they didn't just try to plough through it. Also he should probably teach them something about ducking, dodging, and falling. He also wanted to advance his own knowledge of the subject, keep ahead of the curve, so he added a few Defence books to his mental list of things to pick up at the Library.

"Your time is up, bottle what you have in your cauldron, if you cannot pass a bottle through it, it is not fit for grading and you will receive no marks," Snape said.

Those students who hadn't finished already, bottled their potions labelled them carefully and neatly and put them in the usual spot. Then they filed out in groups of two and three.

"You want us to wait for you mate?" asked Ron shooting a surreptitious glare at Snape's turned back.

"No, it's alright, you guys head up there, I'll see you in Divination," Harry said gathering his books.

"You're not going to have lunch," tsked Hermione disapprovingly.

"I've got a roll and some cheese left from breakfast, I need to get something from the Library," Harry said.

Ron's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and for what had to be the second or third time today Hermione beamed at him proudly.

"Are you feeling alright mate?" asked Ron.

"Fine, I just want to get the homework done so I can work on _other_ things," Harry said pointedly.

At this Ron's expression cleared and he nodded his understanding.

"Do you want me to come with you?" asked Hermione.

"Thanks Mione, but I'll be fine on my own."

"C'mon Mione, I'm starving."

"Honestly Ron, do you ever think of anything besides food and Quidditch?" sighed Hermione exasperatedly as they left the classroom.

Soon Harry and Snape were the only two people left in the room. With a wave of his wand Snape shut the door behind the class and strode over to where Harry leaned casually against his desk.

"So, Potter, you, in all your arrogance, feel that my teaching methods leave something to be desired," sneered Snape.

Harry watched him carefully but Snape showed no signs of being in a more bloodthirsty mood than usual, so he had about a fifty-fifty chance of getting away from this conversation unscathed. Harry gave an internal shrug, he was a Gryffindor, he could live with those odds.

"With all due respect sir, let's not pretend there's something like a student-teacher relationship between the two of us. You've hated me since the day I walked into this school. I don't know your reasons and frankly I don't care what they are because pretty much after day one in this classroom the hostility was mutual. That doesn't mean that I don't know you're one of the most brilliant potions masters around, and that doesn't mean that I want you replaced with some textbook ministry toady. So yes, I insulted your methods, because my word against yours means absolutely nothing and in fact works in your favour."

Snape arched a brow.

"You are of course labouring under the assumption that I did not already know the purpose of your little melodrama. There is a muggle saying I believe applies, go teach your grandmother to suck eggs."

"Sorry, sir," Harry winced inwardly.

Of course Snape knew what he was up to. He was a Slytherin spy for Merlin's sake!

"10 points to Gryffindor, for finally learning to use the barest ounce of discretion and subtlety. Now get out of my sight, Potter, before I return to my senses."

Harry did what any sensible person would have done. He grabbed his books and fled the potions classroom.

Since the corridors were mostly empty of students, they having all gone down to lunch, Harry ran from the dungeons all the way up to the second floor and the Library. He only had a half-hour before divination and he had a lot to get done.

He chose a table near the back away from a group of serious looking seventh year Ravenclaws who were comparing notes over a massive textbook with very small type. Tucked into his dark corner and sure that no one was watching him, Harry took the scroll Malfoy had slipped him earlier out of his back pocket, enlarged it back to its proper size and began to read.

_Well if getting my attention was your goal, you certainly have it now. _

_How did you manage to get into my dorm? Not only is there the fact that you needed to find the Slytherin common room, get the password, sneak past anyone that might have been awake you also had to dismantle my personal wards. Though I suppose you must have hit me with a sleeping spell as I haven't overslept on a school day since I was nine years old. _

_What am I getting out of this? Answers for one. Knowledge is power after all and even if nothing else comes of this I will know more about a potential enemy. Besides which I have the chance to ask you about things I have always wondered. For another thing you are not unattractive yourself, and I would not mind getting you into bed at all. _

Harry felt himself flush slightly and he bit his lip on a pleased grin.

_Spare time. Well, I consider spare time to be when I have no obligations, compulsory or voluntary; after all it is not spare time if you've boxed it off for homework or tutoring. Usually in my rare moments of spare time I walk by the lake or read a book. Why would I waste my spare time doing something I did not want to be doing? That is ludicrous. _

_I remember when I was younger I wanted a brother or sister. My family spent a lot of time travelling and I didn't have any playmates my own age. I have since come to realize however that I really don't want any siblings as I abhor sharing. As to my other family, my father was an only child, his mother died in childbirth. My grandfather, Abraxus Malfoy, was forced to relocate to France after the Dark Lord's defeat and he remarried to a widow from the French nobility, a comtesse. I only met my maternal grandfather once or twice that I can recall but his wife was a dragon of the first order. My mother had two sisters; one married a muggleborn and was disowned, so of course we never speak of her. My other aunt is rather famous, Bellatrix Lestrange, she was imprisoned in Azkaban for being a Death Eater after the first war. She's married to Rodolphus Lestrange but from what I can gather they don't like each other very much so I don't expect I will ever have immediate cousins. The Blacks and the Malfoys are very old families and we have blood ties to all the pureblood families, in fact if I am not mistaken your great grandfather married a Black. My middle name is Lucius, of course, it's tradition, the first born son takes the name of his father as his middle name, the first born daughter the name of her mother. That's why your middle name is James. It amazes me how much you don't know about your own culture. _

_My favourite room at Hogwarts would have to be the Great Hall, I love watching the enchanted ceiling. The night Black broke into the castle and we all slept in sleeping bags on the floor, I didn't actually sleep. I stayed up all night and just watched the ceiling. I only wish I could do it more often without looking like a fool. At home my favourite room would have to be the upper floor of the Malfoy library. There's a large window that overlooks the gardens that gets sun for most of the day, and sports a comfortable reading nook. I can honestly say that I spend the majority of my summer there. _

_I don't play exclusively for the home team, as you put it, I am perfectly willing to join either side and have been since I hit puberty. Pansy and I had a brief and heated fling in fourth year and we both decided we were better off remaining friends, much to the disappointment of our parents. They had been hoping for an alliance match. As it is my mother is trying to press me into agreeing to a betrothal arrangement with Astoria Greengrass. Astoria is not happy about the whole affair and it was she who sent you that first note, in case you were interested to know, in order to embarrass me and ruin the arrangement. As if I would have agreed to the contract in the first place. _

Harry could practically hear the sneer in that last sentence.

_But yes, Pansy is just that clingy._

_Favourite color? Green, of course. Besides being a Slytherin color it also happens to look amazing on me. My favourite food would have to be chocolate mousse, light and fluffy with rich flavour, delicious. My Team is Puddlemere United, they are only the oldest and the most successful team in the league, they won the league cup 22 times and their players hold the most Quidditch records. No one else can compare! My favourite subject would have to be Arithmacy, I do love potions but it has to come in second, there is something about the feeling you get when you finally solve the puzzle and get the answer to the problem, besides which Professor Vector is an excellent teacher. _

_I'll have you know that I only spend ten minutes on my hair! It is after all perfect and needs little coaxing back to neatness. As to the question of uniform, I shudder to contemplate. I like uniforms it saves me the trouble of having to coordinate a suitably stylish outfit every morning. If I had to choose it would likely be something green or perhaps white. _

_While we're on the subject of appearances, do you even own a brush? And why when you're out of uniform do you walk around in clothes that are not only ill fitting and ugly, but also look ready to fall apart at the seams?_

_How did you, Weasley and Granger ever become friends? As I recall you and Weasley didn't even like Granger much. _

_Do you read much? I can't say I've ever noticed either way, Granger has always been the bookish one in your group. If so, what is your favourite book, and why? If not, what would you rather be doing?_

_Why do you continually antagonize Umbridge when you know you're going to lose points for your house and get detention? What will you do if she doesn't allow the Gryffindor team to play in the house league?_

_If you could do anything you wanted after Hogwarts what would it be and why?_

_What do you do on your summer hols? Why do you never go home or away during the Christmas break? _

_At the risk of being repetitive I will also ask, what is your favourite color? Food? Subject? Team? Season? Holiday? Type of music? And why?_

_How do you feel knowing Sirius Black is out there, and hasn't been sighted for several months now?_

_Who, excluding Lupin, would you pick if you absolutely had to have one of our previous defence teachers for another year?_

_I feel I should warn you that because of its incriminating contents I've hexed this letter. I wouldn't let anyone read it if I were you. The results would not be pretty. _

_Well, I'm out of time. I'll see you around._

Harry glanced at his watch, alright he had ten minutes to write his response and another ten to grab his books and then he had five to get up to the North Tower in time for Divination. He grabbed a blank piece of parchment and began scribbling furiously, trying to get everything he wanted to say down. Soon he and Malfoy were going to actually have to have a conversation or else invest in the parchment industry.

He paused. That actually wasn't a terrible idea, a kind of date. He chewed on his lip thinking and then he gingerly wrote the question out. Before he could change his mind he folded up the parchment and stuck it into his back pocket. He really needed to find out how to hex the papers so that they needed a password in order to read them. It wouldn't do if he lost them and some poor firstie ended up with their eyeballs liquefied or something. Sirius would know how to do it. If they had time maybe Harry would ask him tonight when he visited. In the mean time he did the best he could to keep the letter from being read by prying eyes.

Harry grabbed his book bag and headed into the stacks. Scanning the titles Harry found what he wanted easily enough, he was friends with Hermione after all, you didn't hang around her without picking up how to use the library. He signed out the books under Madam Pince's suspicious glaring gaze and took three short cuts to get up to Divination on time.

"Cutting it a bit close there," Ron told him as he flopped onto his pouffe.

"Made it though," Harry pointed out, tiredly.

Gods he was exhausted and the hot, stuffy, heavily perfumed divination room was just making his eyelids droop. If he didn't get at least six hours sleep tonight he would be done for the rest of the week.

Professor Trelawney slammed a copy of _The Dream Oracle_ down on the table between Harry and Ron jolting Harry back into semi-alertness. She actually threw another copy and Seamus and Dean narrowly avoiding Seamus' head, and she shoved the last one into Neville's chest so hard he toppled off his pouffe.

"Well, get on with it! You know what to do, unless I'm such a sub-standard teacher you never learned how to open a book!" she shouted sounding angry and somewhat hysterical.

The whole class looked at her with wide eyes and then glanced at each other in confusion. Harry however had some idea of what was wrong.

"She must have gotten the results of her assessment back," he told Ron as she stomped back to her chair blinking angry tears out of her eyes.

He pulled his Charms work out of his bag and, propping his head up with one hand, began his introduction with the other.

"You're not seriously working, are you?" asked Ron incredulously.

Lavender shot him a disgusted look absorbed as she was with hearing Professor Trelawney's tale of woe.

"_The uses for the Slickening Charm are many and varied, but in this essay I will cover some of their main uses in practical defence_...you're not even doing Divination work!" Ron sputtered indignant.

"Shut up!" hissed Harry, but Trelawney was too preoccupied to notice Ron's outburst, "Flitwick's essay is due tomorrow and I still have homework from Sprout, Snape and McGonagall. She'll never notice, the state she's in."

Ron snorted in agreement, as Trelawney stalked by their table muttering what sounded like threats under her breath and occasionally dashing the tears from her cheeks.

"Alright," sighed Ron, "If you're gonna be working I might as well," pulling out his own Charms text and a bit of parchment.

By the end of the period Harry had a complete rough draft of his essay done and had managed to bolt down his cheese and roll so that if Hermione asked he could truthfully say he had eaten something. Ron had managed about a half a foot of parchment on the uses of Slickening Spells for recreation and they were both dreading Defence.

They swung by classroom 7A to pick up Hermione who was lingering to ask Professor Vector about something. Ron went in to remind her that they were going to be late to Defence and Harry spotted Malfoy his nose practically touching a sheaf of parchment with a ton of numbers and letters and symbols scribbled all over it in his neat spiky writing.

Harry almost laughed out loud when the blond was so absorbed he didn't notice Harry creep up behind him and read over his shoulder his nose inches from his ear. Harry didn't push his luck too far though he carefully slipped his response into Malfoy's book bag.

Harry shook his head when the blond didn't twitch and muttered something about x and y and quickly went back to where Ron had left him to find that Ron had managed to pull Hermione away from her simple trinomials.

"You and Umbridge have something in common," he informed Hermione to save Ron from an annoyed earful.

Hermione gave him an affronted look.

"And what pray tell would that be? A double X chromosome?"

"I am not even going to pretend to know what that means, but Umbridge obviously things that Trelawney's a batty old fraud, too. Looks like she's put her on probation."

"That woman," growled Hermione, "If anyone is fraudulent it's her, as if she had any right—"

"In case you haven't noticed Mione, the Ministry has given her the right, hasn't it? If it weren't for Dumbledore, she'd have the school under her thumb by now," Ron pointed out as they entered the defence classroom.

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," sniffed Hermione as she slid into her usual seat.

Umbridge herself entered not a moment later, wearing her black velvet bow and a smug smile, and nodded to Malfoy as he slipped into the classroom just in time.

"Good morning class."

"Good morning Professor Umbridge," they chanted in droning unison.

"Wands away."

No one moved as no one had bothered to take their wands out. They had officially lost all hope for a practical lesson.

"Please turn to page thirty four in _Defensive Magical Theory_ and read chapter three, A Case for Non-Offensive Response to Magical Attack. There will be –"

"—no need to talk," parroted Harry, Ron and Hermione under their breaths.

Harry was actually hopeful that there would be something worth reading about in the chapter. After all hadn't he just been thinking of teaching ducking and dodging to the DA? But Slinkard was droning on about diplomacy, compromise, and hugging it out. If someone was attacking you magically they didn't want to hug it out, that was probably why they were attacking you.

Rather than bother reading the textbook Harry pretended to be taking notes and instead wrote his own version of the chapter, A Case for Defensive and Escapist Response to Magical Attack, and if he added a few paragraphs of snide comments, well, no one was going to read it but him anyway.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Well the note slipping was considerably less convoluted this time, but honestly one you've risked life and limb to get into the Slytherin dorms, nothing else really compares. Besides which it's hard to do sneaky dramatics with a school full of witnesses meandering around.

Alright, enough of my excuses, let me know if you think Harry is getting too smart too fast.

Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

**The Courting Games**

**Chapter Six: A Long Night**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter

**Author's Note:** Good evening ladies and gents and welcome back to the Courting Games! First off I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, alerted and favourited, as always your comments make my life! Now without further ado the story!

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><p>As Draco had predicted almost as soon as he sat down at his usual table in the common room and got himself set up with parchment and quills he was, quite literally, flooded with questions and pleas for help from his own classmates all the way down to the first years.<p>

"Alright, alright! Will you people just calm down, shut your traps and form a line," he instructed annoyed as they swarmed like a group of insect their questions turning into mindless buzzing in his ear as they all tried to make themselves heard over one and other.

Quickly a line formed itself leading out from his table headed by a nervous looking Georgianna Bole.

"Alright, Bole, what do you need?"

"I need to know the difference between an elixir and a potion," she squeaked.

"Get your brother's third year text and read chapter three, next," he snapped as the little blond thing scampered off.

Next was a second year, Graham Pritchard.

"Malfoy can you help me with my Disarming Charm, I know it wasn't assigned work but it's in my brother's old notes that we should be learning it by now," pleaded Pritchard.

"The incantation as you probably know is _expelliarmus_ with the inflection on the 'pelli the wand movement is a harsh slash, like so," Draco demonstrated, "Come and find me later if you have more questions about how to use it, I just have too many people that need a bit of help right now to go into it."

"That's alright, I'll just practice on my own," Pritchard said with a sigh.

Next was Daraline Burke, a third year who needed to know how to deal with a grindylow. After that Goyle confessed he was still having trouble with his shield charms. By the end of a half an hour Draco had fielded ten questions and there was still a seemingly endless line of people still to help. Not that he could really call his one sentence answers helping, but if he didn't hurry he'd never get through even half of the people who needed help. Glancing around the room he could see that Daphne, Theo, and the sixth and seventh year prefects were similarly swarmed.

Suddenly there was a loud crack. The common room fell silent as Adriana Corner, a sixth year prefect and a witch not known for her good temper stood on her table looking ready to curse the next person who spoke.

"What is going on here?" she demanded her wand sparking dangerously, "Why is it that no one seems to be capable of doing their own homework tonight?"

You could have heard a pin drop.

"Well, answer the witch!" demanded Graham Montague, her male counterpart.

"It's Defence, alright Corner? Don't get your panties in a fucking knot," sneered Tracey Davis.

"If you want to take this to another level, Davis, we can –" snapped Corner.

"Not now Adriana, you can curse Davis after we've got this sorted," interrupted Montague.

He had apparently expected the hex that came his way because it hit a shield.

"What do you mean it's defence, Davis?" he drawled lazily deciding it was time to get in the game.

"I mean, Malfoy, that the Ministry's professorial puppet is going to make us fail our OWLs and NEWTs and all the other years will be even further behind in the Defence curriculum because the bitch refuses to teach practical lessons and doesn't assign even remotely useful reading."

Davis was not known for her tact, in fact the pretty little brunette with her short hair and pixie features was rather notorious for her tendency to scorn everything and everyone and make no secret of the fact.

"Who agrees with Davis?" asked Miles Bletchley a seventh year prefect and the Quidditch team's keeper.

Slowly the majority of the clustered Slytherins raised their hands, a few of them glancing nervously at members of the Inquisitorial Squad.

"Very well, those of you with questions about Defence and concerns about your examinations I ask that you put them to rest for the moment. The tutors and prefects are to come with Bletchley and I, and we will discuss how to handle the problem. We will be available for help in the other subjects after the meeting," said Adele Baddock, the other seventh year prefect, in her usual clipped overly formal tones.

The clusters of students dispersed slightly around the common room very few of them actually heading up to the dorms. They wanted to be around when the decision was made and Draco couldn't blame them. Defence Against the Dark Arts was slowly becoming the class in which everyone was stuck at the First Year level, curriculum wise anyway. The Slytherins might have scores of hexes and jinxes and protections in their memory banks, because if you didn't you would find yourself permanently in the Hospital Wing, but that didn't mean they were prepared for OWLs or, Merlin forbid, an actual situation where they might need to defend themselves. This was an obvious glaring weakness as the Slytherins were very much aware that the Dark Lord had returned and there were times of turbulence and danger ahead no matter which side of the argument you happened to favour.

Baddock opened the way to the prefects' conference room with a muttered word and the twelve senior Slytherins made their way inside and arranged themselves in hierarchal order around the table. Baddock, of course, took the position at the head of the table with Bletchley on her right and Corner on her left.

"We have a serious problem," Baddock began looking each of them in the eyes with her icy blue stare, "The grades, futures, and reputations of the students of this house are in serious jeopardy. Umbridge, while a useful tool for some of us, is going to do a great deal of damage in the long run. Normally with a professor this unsuited we would simply have them removed, our families, after all, have the power and influence through the Ministry and the Board of Governors."

"Well then, why are we still discussing this? We should owl or firecall our connections, with the full force of Slytherin house against her the sorry excuse for a woman would be removed before you could say Mutiny," Corner pointed out.

"We can't," said Montague with an annoyed sigh, "It would undermine our own authority."

"At this stage, she cannot be removed in any case," Draco pointed out.

The glares he was met with were more hostile than usual. Not entirely unexpected.

"Care to enlighten the rest of us, Malfoy?" demanded Corner.

"As you all know it has been the goal of my family to see Dumbledore removed from his position as Headmaster, with certain…changes during the last few months it has become necessary to involve the Ministry. Fudge has, obviously, been bought and paid for but he is doing as instructed, it is merely that we find his selection distasteful."

"Putting it mildly," sneered Daphne.

"As it is Umbridge has the Minister's go ahead for anything she can get away with as long as it wrests control from Dumbledore, as evidenced by a few of her more ludicrous educational decrees. This has become a situation we cannot intervene in without causing a serious incident, even if we were prepared to lose face. It was a miscalculation on my father's part, I take full responsibility."

Baddock sneered.

"Save your breath Malfoy, we are all aware of the ramifications of crossing Lucius Malfoy; we will not fight you on this matter, for the moment. This is not about politics. This is about educating ourselves to the standards to which we ought to be accustomed."

"Can we have the upper years teaching the younger years? Seventh could do independent study and teach fifth and sixth, sixth could teach fourth and third and fifth could teach first and second," Bletchley pointed out.

"On top of OWLs or NEWTs and our regular course load, not to mention we have enough issues trying to keep up with the curriculum when we're just tutoring, there is no space for practical lessons in the common room and we would have to make a secret out of it," Montague snapped.

"What about Snape?" suggested Theo quietly, with a shrug, "He's always after the defence job. He knows his shit, and it's a chance to see us succeed where the other houses fail which should please him."

"I'll ask him but he's got a lot on his plate, I don't know if he'll have the time," Draco said with a sigh.

Truth be told he was worried about his godfather, the man was thinner, paler, and in a worse mood than he'd ever been before. Draco really didn't want to put the additional weight on his shoulders. He was sure Severus would shoulder the burden if they admitted they couldn't handle it on their own but he didn't want to put him in that position if he could help it.

"What about someone outside the castle?" he asked suddenly.

"We'd never be able to smuggle them in effectively, even if we could find someone willing and able not to mention a place and the time to hold lessons."

"And if I could find a way?"

"Did you have something in mind?" asked Corner arching a brow sceptically.

"I know someone who might be able to work something out," said Draco thinking of Potter and his secret defence group.

"Well, that wasn't vague at all," said Daphne rolling her eyes.

"Just because you don't have any better ideas doesn't mean that you have to get snarky when I try to protect my contacts from retribution. In case you've forgotten, Daphne, simply talking about this is not only bordering on illegal but could put us all in danger."

"Malfoy, loath as I am to admit it, is correct," Baddock said, "Umbridge has proved herself to be unstable, and she has power. We cannot antagonize her, thus we must work around her,"

"Malfoy, see what this contact of yours can arrange, and talk to Professor Snape. In the meantime, Adriana, talk to your brother; find out what the Ravenclaws are doing to stopper the gaps in their education. We'll lengthen the tutoring sessions, and post recommended reading for each year for the moment," Bletchley instructed.

"This meeting is adjourned," Baddock said rising.

The prefects and tutors rose with her and together they filed out of the conference room. Draco was surprised by the lack of people in the common room, and glanced at his watch. He bit his tongue on a curse, they'd been talking for two and a half hours and everyone had turned in for the night.

"I'll post a notice," Bletchley said grabbing up a quill and parchment.

Draco exchanged polite nods with his fellow prefects and tutors and all but trudged up to his room. He hadn't even touched his Arithmacy homework before the human inundation and as much as he loved the subject he wasn't looking forward to it after the long and gruelling meeting he'd just had.

With a sigh he changed out of his uniform and into a pair of loose pants and a soft t-shirt and grabbed his calculations out from his book bag. He was sure he was close to solving question fourteen and if he could figure it out he could have the rest of Vector's proof no problem. As he laid the calculations out on the green bedspread he noticed that there were a few extra papers.

Pulling the extras out he recognized the scrawl immediately and excitement flooded him as, tiredness forgotten in the wake of excitement, he began reading Potter's response.

_Sorry, we can't all have perfectly groomed hair. Mine just grows this way, it doesn't matter how many haircuts I get or how long I spend combing it or how much gel I use. Apparently it's genetic and my Dad and Grandfather had the same kind of hair. It stopped bothering me a long while ago. _

_As to my clothes, they're pretty much all I own outside of uniform, hand-me-downs from my cousin who is about a million times larger than me. Not of course that that's difficult. I've been thinking of going shopping for my own stuff for a while now, it's not like I can't afford it, but apart from not really having the time, or a clue what I'd pick, I don't want my greedy relatives to know my parents left me an inheritance. They'd just try and take it from me and that is hassle I just don't need. _

_Well, Ron and I met on the train and I'm not quite sure how we became friends it just sort of happened, easy as breathing, but you're right we really didn't like Hermione at first. We thought she was a stuck up know-it-all with no sense of humour, and she really was quite unbearable that first month at Hogwarts. Don't you dare tell her I said it though! Anyway you remember on Halloween of our first year there was that troll in the dungeons? Well that morning Ron had said something that really hurt Hermione's feelings and she spent the day holed up in the girls loo crying. She didn't go to classes or come down for the feast. When we were being herded out of the Great Hall Ron and I realized she didn't know about the troll, so rather than letting a teacher or prefect handle it, like we should have, we snuck away from the group. The troll, however, was not as Quirrell said, in the dungeons but wandering around on the second floor. It went into a room and we locked it in and were busy congratulating ourselves when we Hermione screamed and we realized we'd locked the troll into the bathroom with her. So, being us, we went charging to her rescue, throwing bits of pipe and generally making a distracting ruckus. I stuck my wand up its nose and Ron managed to master Wingardium Leviosa in time to knock the thing out with its own club. By that point the teachers arrived and were ready to lay into us when Hermione piped up and deliberately lied to McGonagall to get us out of trouble. There are some things you just can't help being friends after and apparently taking on a mountain troll is one of them. _

_I actually read quite a bit, it's a side effect of not sleeping. Mostly it's just our course books and stuff about Quidditch but I broke down this summer and raided my aunt's bookshelves. If you tell anyone else this it is worth your life, but I'm kind of addicted to muggle romance novels. There's something about knowing that there's going to be a happy ending that draws me in. Since pretty much every romance novel is the same however it's hard to have a favourite. So it comes down to a tie between Flying with the Cannons and the muggle novel I Want to Go Home by Gordon Korman. It's meant for young readers but it's just so hilarious I read it over and over again._

_Still when it all comes down to it if the weather is half-way decent and I have any choice in the matter I want to be outside flying or kicking around the football or just going for a run. I love it outside and call me an adrenaline junkie if you like but there's no better feeling than the one you get after pushing your body to the limit whether it's running that extra ten feet or pulling out of a suicidal dive. No better feeling in the world!_

_I speak out against that bitch because somebody has to. Umbridge is a spiteful old toad who's not committed to teaching, fine I can deal with that not like we haven't had teachers like that before. She's in bed with the Ministry, gross but again I can deal with it. What I can't stand is the fact that she's discrediting my word and Dumbledore's effectively crippling any ability we might have had to spur the students and the government into pre-emptive action to counter Voldemort. And he is back; don't pretend you don't know that to be the absolute truth, your father was at the resurrection ceremony for Merlin's sake! Besides which detentions with her are quite literally torture and I'd rather it be me in there than some poor firstie. _

_Well, if she doesn't allow Gryffindor to play in the house league I'm going to throw a full on hissy fit. Yes, I did just say that, and possibly drag the Cho and the Hufflepuff seeker off twice a week for serious seeker training just so that you lot don't completely overtake the school in points. This is me admitting you are a half-decent seeker; don't let it go to your ego. _

_If I could do anything after Hogwarts, I don't really know what I'd do, I thought about being an Auror but it isn't what I would be happiest doing I don't think. Actually I'm starting to think I'd like to teach Defence after I graduate. It's my best subject and Merlin knows this school needs a decent professor who won't try to kill or torture the students and who's not afraid to stick it out for more than a year. _

_I don't really want to talk about why I don't go home for the holidays. So instead I'll tell you that I love staying at Hogwarts over Christmas, most years there are snowball fights and chess. Mrs. Weasley knits me one of her famous sweaters and sends the best treats you will ever taste, and the whole tower goes quiet. It's also quite fun to watch the professors make cakes of themselves at the feast!_

_Over the summer hols I spend my first month or so in my room doing homework and avoiding my cousin, or wandering the neighbourhood. Then I usually go to Ron's house and hang out with the Weasleys. We play Quidditch and the Twins always have some new trick up their sleeves, Hermione comes over sometimes but her parents like to spend the break with her since they don't see her most of the year and they all go away. Last year we went to see the World Cup, as you know, and that was fun except for the whole Death Eater bit at the end. _

_My favourite colour is also green, because it's the colour of grass and trees and my mother's eyes. Plus there is the fact that you do look good enough to eat in it. My favourite food is garlic bread with cheese, I cannot even explain how scrumptious it is. I love it! My favourite subject is Transfiguration, it's challenging, interesting, useful and McGonagall doesn't want to kill me, unlike our Defence teachers. The only year this wasn't the case was third year but Lupin was pretty much awesome so I doubt that really comes as a surprise to you. _

_My team is the Appleby Arrows in no small part because they're the rivals of the Wimbourne Wasps and I really don't like Ludo Bagman. I don't bring it up very often because Ron can go on and on and on about the Cannons and their various virtues and then Ginny gets her back up about the Harpies and the debates can last for hours. _

_My favourite season is the fall because it's usually a good temperature not too hot or cold, the leaves changing colour are always pretty, and we get to come back to Hogwarts. That being said I really don't like Halloween all that much and have always preferred Christmas. I also despise Valentine's Day. I may spend the entire day hiding in a broom closet from hordes of my not so secret admirers this year. Care to join me?_

_My favourite type of music is a kind of muggle music they call alternative, and I don't really listen to Wizarding music. _

_I'm not worried about Sirius Black. He hasn't tried coming after me again and to be honest I'm not really convinced I was in any danger in the first place despite what the Ministry says. Besides which, he wasn't there when Voldemort was resurrected and we haven't heard any news about him killing muggles on his own. I don't think he was a Death Eater at all. What I'm hoping is that the Aurors will reopen the case and find the sonofabitch who really betrayed my family and that the rat will get within wand reach of me. _

_If I absolutely had to pick one I'd have to say Barty Crouch Jr. despite the fact that the man was a crazed Death Eater psychopath at least I learned something from him, he didn't try and get me into the papers and tabloids at every turn, and he didn't have Voldemort stuck to the back of his head. Isn't it so sad that my standards are that low? _

_Why is it that to qualify for the Defence position you have to try to kill me? Even though Umbridge hasn't come right out and done it yet we're only in November, it's just a matter of time. _

_If Professor Snape taught Defence would Potions still be your second favourite subject? Are you getting better grades than Hermione in Arithmacy?_

_Does the fact that I'm against Voldemort bother you? Should we agree not to mention it or do you think we can handle accepting that we each have our different opinions and leave it at that?_

_What do you and your family do for Christmas? What was the best gift you ever received? What about the thing you wanted the most that you never got?_

_What is your opinion on House Elves? If you had to pay them wages would you still use them? Have you ever have to clean up after yourself?_

_What kind of music do you like? Do you play an instrument or sing in the shower? If so are you any good?_

_What do you think of Umbridge and her decrees? Do you agree or are you just going along for the power trip? Which one do you think is the best and which one is the worst?_

_Look I've got to get going or I'm going to be late for Divination, but…would you meet me in the Great Hall tomorrow night maybe around two in the morning?_

Draco immediately began scrawling out his answer trying to write quickly because he knew he had to get his Arithmacy work done tonight and he didn't want to wake up tired tomorrow if he was going to spend another late night with Potter. He wondered what the Gryffindor Golden Boy had planned for them and how he could be so casual about wandering around the school after hours with the current dictatorial regime.

Excitement made his stomach tighten and flutter, this was going to be the real test, after all. It was one thing to write half a novel to each other and steal glances across classrooms, it was easy to ignore five years of animosity and severe differences of opinion when they weren't actually speaking and could plan out their words, but now they would have to actually face each other speak to each other civilly. A smirk twisted Draco's lips, well, perhaps speaking wouldn't be the only thing they got up to tomorrow night.

He stared down at his paper strewn bedspread considering. What he really wanted to do was sneak up to the owlry to send Potter his reply but he still had to get done his Arithmacy homework and it was already closing in on one o'clock in the morning. He sighed and picked up question fourteen and his quill going through his steps again. He frowned as he looked at the equation he was left with through narrowed suspicious eyes.

"Bloody hell, the damn thing factors!" he swore, annoyed that he had been tricked by the change in format into believing the problem was more complicated than it actually was.

He scribbled down the answer to the question and finished the rough draft of the proof for Professor Vector. He would clean it up tomorrow at lunch or after dinner, add in his therefore statements and such, tonight he was on a mission to the owlry.

His sleeping attire was dark and Draco didn't really feel like changing so going completely against the Malfoy credo he slipped on his shoes cast a quick notice-me-not charm with little difficulty, congratulated himself briefly on finally mastering the sixth year spell, and for the first time he could ever remember left his room in less than immaculate condition.

He didn't bother creeping out of the common room, there was no one visible lingering and he didn't want to seem furtive to anyone who might be lurking around unseen. No sense giving people fuel for undermining gossip. Once he slipped out of the common room Draco became more cautious. If he was caught out of bed after hours it was more than just his reputation at stake, after all, and he'd managed to make it this far in his Hogwarts career with a total of five detentions and that was plenty. Malfoys did not scrub.

Hogwarts at night wasn't something Draco had had much occasion to notice before, but it was beautiful and peaceful with the light of the waning moon streaming in through the windows in inconsistent beams turning the castle into something out of a fairy story.

The halls were quiet and empty the portraits sleeping and the staircases moving lazily if at all. It was all too easy to forget that Filch and his mangy beast haunted the halls long after the professors had completed their rounds and gone to sleep.

Draco made it up to the owlry with only one close call when he was forced to duck into a shadowy alcove to hide from Peeves who was carrying a bucket of water, cackling gleefully at the top of his lungs, and had a line of blackboard erasers trailing after him like bizarre little ducklings.

The owlry was fairly empty, most of the owls in question being out hunting, but Draco managed to prod a grumpy old screech owl awake and get him to accept his scroll. He'd hexed the seal to shock anyone besides the recipient who tried to break it. Just to be safe though he fixed the owl with his most intimidating look.

"This scroll is to go to the fifth year Gryffindor boys' dormitory. It is to be delivered into the hands of Harry Potter and no one else."

The owl shot him a contemptuous look but gave a disgruntled hoot of assent and took off into the night.

Draco scowled.

"Don't know what the bloody beast is complaining about, it's all of a five minute delivery, around the corner," he muttered to himself moving into the fresher night air and wishing that his own owl Primus wasn't out hunting. He hated trusting such a task to a curmudgeonly old feather duster.

There was a soft thud and the crunch of boots on gravel that had Draco crouching low behind the stone stair rail and peering through the gaps. He wondered who else was creeping out of the castle at such a late hour and was surprised to find that it was Severus striding down the gravel side path, headed for the front gates. He was dressed in his typical black, his robes billowing out behind him and though Draco couldn't see his face he could imagine his godfather's expression judging by the tense set of his shoulders.

Draco clenched his teeth on a surprised noise when he saw the mask in his hand. It seemed he was going to a Death Eater meeting. Draco's stomach knotted as he watched his godfather and respected professor until he reached the front gates and disapparated, unsure what to feel.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>There you have it folks, the plot thickens. I kind of love writing the Slytherins they're so snarky it's adorable.

For those of you who might have noticed a few inconsistencies and were wondering about the timeline, I've made it so that Educational Decree Number 24 is the one that basically says no dating and 25 is the one that says no clubs.

In this story ED #24 was issued sometime in Late October, Harry and Cho got together before the DA was formed (prompting the no dating decree from the toad lady) in Late October they formed the DA, (prompting the no clubs without my permission rule which was instituted in early November) Harry played a few Games with the other girls in Late October/Early November. Umbridge is still holding off giving Gryffindor permission to play Quidditch, which works because the inter-house quidditch games have thus far been between the other houses. Now we're somewhere around Mid or Late November.

I am following along with the fifth book tacking on events that happened there into my new and improved timeline, so let me know if there are any inconsistencies.

As always please review and let me know what you guys think!


	7. Chapter 7

**The Courting Games**

**Chapter Seven: The Many Practical Uses of Intrigue**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter

**Author's Note: **Le gasp! An update! Who would have believed the gods would allow a university student enough free time to put together enough words to placate the rabid readers with another chapter? Not me, that's for sure.

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, alerted, favourited and cared enough to PM me and nag for an update, this one's for you guys!

But enough with the prelude and on to the main event! Go forth and read!

* * *

><p>Harry finished the last sentence of his Herbology essay with a sharp jab of his quill and a relieved sigh and leaned back against the arm of the loveseat he was currently occupying. He was so tired he couldn't even summon up the energy to hold his eyes open. He drifted into a doze, lulled by the flickering of the fire and the rhythmic cheers that accompanied the demonstration of Fred and George's latest pranking genius.<p>

The room was unfamiliar and dimly lit yet he could see almost perfectly the chair where the Dark Lord reclined indolently, a glass of white wine dangling from his long pale fingers in one hand and his wand twirling slowly around the fingers of the other. There was a Death Eater kneeling before him his head bowed.

"Look at me, Severus," he ordered.

Snape raised his head and met the Dark Lord's eyes. Voldemort flicked his wand and Snape's half-mask clattered into the corner revealing the Potions Master's dark empty eyes set into familiar features blanked of emotion.

"Make your report."

Snape broke eye contact to nod respectfully and then began.

"Dumbledore has not been able to divine anything of your recruiting activities, my lord, and he is losing support both within the government, and in the public eye. A few devotees remain loyal of course, but that was to be expected, all in all Lucius' plans have proven successful in many areas. The Order has not had anything significant to report, their only leverage is their guard on the Department of Mysteries and they grow anxious and sloppy waiting for you to make your move. They will not be more than a trifling inconvenience."

"I am pleased to hear this, Severus, and what of Potter?"

"I am aggrieved to report that there is no hope of success on that front my lord. The boy cannot be taken from the castle and he cannot be held anywhere, Dumbledore has woven his enchantments well."

The Dark Lord's red eyes flashed with temper, and Harry felt a distant burning.

"This deliberate failure will not be born, Severus, you have had plenty of opportunity to abduct the boy and have failed to do so, _crucio_."

A jet of red light lit the room for a second and Snape was flung to his back twitching and moaning in agony until the moaning became screaming. Only then did the Dark Lord release him.

"Now Severus, justify your continued failure to me and I may be inclined to be lenient," the Dark Lord said taking a small sip of his wine.

It took Snape a long moment to catch his breath and arrange himself back into his respectful kneel.

"I have discovered that when Dumbledore erected the wards that conceal Potter during the summer, he also tied to them locator wards that activate when the boy is in distress. Even if I managed to take the boy from under the Old Coot's nose, he could be unconscious and under Fidelius and still his unwillingness to be wherever we put him would activate the locator and Dumbledore would then come for him. He must travel under his own free will without magical or physical coercion," Snape concluded.

"I must lure him out then, very well, I have already laid the groundwork for that," shrugged the Dark Lord.

"My lord is cunning to have done so," Snape complimented.

"You failed me, Severus, your pretty flatteries will not serve to exempt you from punishment."

"That does not make them any less the truth, my lord," Snape said simply.

"_Crucio_."

Harry could almost feel the reverberation of that pain throughout his body and he shivered at its nearness and backed away.

The Dark Lord said something Harry couldn't hear. Another red curse flew through the room lighting it for a sparse second and then Harry jerked awake.

His homework slipped off his chest and onto the floor with a dull thunk and Harry's eyes popped open taking in the familiar warm golden and scarlet glow of the Gryffindor common room.

His head ached and his scar burned horribly. He casually swiped his hand across his forehead only mildly surprised to find it came away bloody. He scraped his fringe over it. No sense worrying anybody.

Fred and George had packed up their product demonstration and retired to their dorms with their earnings and so had the rest of Gryffindor, in fact the only one really still awake was Hermione who was scribbling some Arithmacy proof that took up a full foot of parchment.

Ron who had been dozing blinked his eyes open slowly and stared blearily into the fire.

"Sirius!" he said.

Harry nearly gave himself whiplash as he sprung upright and grinned. There was Sirius' head suspended amongst the flames his long hair tousled and his grey eyes dancing with mirth.

"Hi," he said with an answering grin.

"Hey," greeted the teens leaving their plush chairs to kneel on the hearthrug.

Even Crookshanks slunk as near to the fire as he could get purring like a lawnmower and Hermione had to pull him back to keep him from setting fire to his whiskers.

"How're things?"

"Not great," Harry said, "You've heard about the Ministry decrees, right? Well this latest one has effectively banned Quidditch,"

"And secret Defence Groups," said Sirius.

"How did you know about that?" demanded Hermione.

"Yeah," said Ron crossly, "It's meant to be secret."

Sirius laughed.

"You three still have a lot to learn, the Hog's Head, really? You couldn't have stood out more if you'd tried."

"Well, we couldn't have very well had it in the Three Broomsticks, that place is always packed," Hermione pointed out.

"All the better to conceal a large gathering and discourage eavesdroppers," Sirius pointed out.

"So, who ratted us out?" Harry asked.

"Mundungus, of course."

"Dung was there?" said Ron, "Where?"

"He was the witch under the veil."

"Bloody hell."

"What was Mundungus doing there anyway—no, never mind, let me guess, he was guarding me. Well, that's annoying," Harry sighed.

"Just as well though, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your day off is organize and illegal defence group," Sirius pointed out.

He didn't look particularly upset or worried though. On the contrary, Sirius was beaming at Harry with rather distinct pride.

"Why did Dung go and hide from us though?" said Ron, "We'd have like to have seen him."

"Speak for yourself, I'd have hexed him six ways from Sunday," Harry said.

"Mundungus got himself banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago, that barman's got a long memory. Since we lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, Dung's been dressing up as a witch a lot lately. Now, before I forget, Ron – I swore I'd pass a message on from your mother."

"Alright," said Ron looking a bit pale and nervous.

"She says under no circumstances are you to participate in an illegal secret defence against the dark arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and ruin your whole future. She says that you're still young and have plenty of time to learn how to defend yourselves in the future and shouldn't be worrying about that right now. She also," Sirius said turning his head to more directly face Harry and Hermione, "Advises the two of you not to join up, though she recognizes that she has no authority over either of you, she begs you to remember that she only has your best interests at heart."

"She lays it on pretty thick," Ron commented.

"She would have written to you about it but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in serious trouble and she couldn't come tonight because it's her turn on duty," Sirius reported dutifully.

"On duty for what?" asked Ron quickly.

"Never you mind about that, Order business is all. In any case it's fallen to me to be the messenger, and make sure you let her know I passed it all on because I don't think she trusts me to," Sirius said ruefully.

Harry stared at Sirius for a long moment, while Hermione stroked Crookshanks and Ron poked his index finger through a hole in the hearthrug.

"What do you think of this whole thing Sirius?" Harry finally asked.

"Me, I think it's a brilliant idea!" Sirius said brightly, "Do you think that James and I would have sat back and let a pompous old windbag like Umbridge run roughshod over our lives?"

"Last year, you were very vocal about the fact that I should be careful, keep my nose clean, that sort of thing," Harry pointed out.

"Last year we only thought someone was trying to kill you, this year we know someone is trying to kill you, so, if you ask me, learning to defend yourself is a pretty smart plan," Sirius pointed out.

"And if we're expelled?" Hermione asked.

"Blimey, Mione, this was your idea!"

"I just want to know what Sirius thinks," she said.

"If you ask me it's better to be expelled and know how to defend yourself then be sitting ducks waiting in school without a clue," Sirius said, "Speaking of, how are you organizing this thing?"

A slow vindictive smile curved Harry's lips.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Sirius. We've got it under control."

Sirius looked taken aback for half-a-second before chuckling, "Turnabout's fair play I suppose," he conceded.

"I do have an idea about how we can stop worrying about the owls being intercepted though," Harry said.

"Really?" chorused Ron, Hermione, and Sirius.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about it for a bit now and what if we used the same spells as on the Map, password protected concealment? Then we can write a normal hey how are you letter, and have it pass the mail screenings with any sensitive information," Harry said.

There was a long moment of silence.

"That's brilliant! Why on Earth didn't I think of it before? The spells are difficult of course, but for secure communication it's worth it," Sirius declared.

"Harry," squealed Hermione hugging him tightly, "I'm so proud of you."

"Good thinking, mate," said Ron.

"Hermione...can't breathe!" Harry gasped.

"Right, sorry."

Sirius chuckled and Hermione flushed sheepishly.

"I don't have time to teach you the spells tonight, but I'm sure you'll be able to figure them out, we found them in A Wizards Guide to Treasure Hunting by Pisces Greybeard, but if you can find a copy they go into more depth in the Invisible Book of Invisibility, in the section on concealment charms. I'll—"

He broke off looking alarmed at the brick wall of the fireplace, and in short order he'd disappeared.

"What the—"

Hermione covered her mouth to muffle a shriek.

There in the fire was a hand, a stubby fingered hand with a number of old-fashioned rings decorating it, groping around in the coals as though it knew exactly where Sirius' long hair had been a moment before and was determined to grab it.

Crookshanks hissed and bolted.

The teens scrambled to their feet, gathered up their homework and did the same. Harry and Ron slunk past their snoring and oblivious dorm mates.

"That was too close for my comfort," Harry muttered.

"Yeah," Ron agreed in a quiet choked sort of voice as he pulled on his pyjamas and padded into the bathroom.

Too wired to sleep Harry sorted through the jumble of papers that was his homework. He was surprised when an unmarked envelope sealed with black wax slipped out from between two pages of his finished Herbology essay.

"When did this come?" he asked Ron as he re-emerged from the bathroom.

"Oh, that? Grumpy owl dropped it off 'round one, you were asleep," Ron said, "You courting again?"

"Yeah, looks like it might go well this time too," said Harry grinning, "Night Ron."

Ron mumbled something in answer and Harry pulled his hangings shut and conjured a witchlight by which he could read Draco's letter.

He paused before opening it, a semi-familiar shivery feeling running down his spine. Hermione always said it was a goose walking over his grave, but he'd felt this before…tonight...in the vision of the Dark Lord and Snape. The reverberation of pain down whatever connection he had to Voldemort.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to pinpoint the feeling.

There was a slight burning in his scar and then it was like being swept down a long tunnel and at the end of it, he could _feel_ Snape. He could feel the life seeping out of him.

Harry's eyes snapped open.

He wasn't entirely sure how he knew Snape was dying but he knew and he wasn't just going to sit here and do nothing. If nothing else he owed the man for not bringing him straight to Voldemort, seeing as the explanations he'd fed the Dark Lord about why he couldn't be kidnapped were complete and utter bullshit. It was more than a bit his fault that Snape was in his current situation.

Harry grabbed the Map and the Cloak and extinguished the witchlight.

"Where are you going?" murmured Ron, mostly asleep.

"I can't sleep, I'm gonna sneak down to the library and find that book Sirius was talking about," Harry lied easily as he slipped on his shoes.

Ron grunted something in response and rolled over.

Harry snuck back out of the fifth year Gryffindor boys' dorm and was glad to see that Umbridge's pawing mitt was gone from the dying fire in the common room fireplace. Harry briefly consulted the Map and found Snape in his chambers.

"Stupid, stubborn, old bastard," Harry cursed to himself as he tossed the cloak around his shoulders.

Snape should have gone straight to the Hospital Wing and availed himself of the services of Poppy Pomfrey, spy or not.

Harry slipped out the portrait hole undetected and made a beeline for the Hospital Wing. The route was clear and Harry undid Madam Pomfrey's wards with the ease of long practice and took a familiar set of potions off the shelf.

Snape would probably have these potions in his quarters but Harry had no idea where to begin looking for them and he probably didn't have the time to spare searching.

He had to detour through the Trophy Room to avoid Mrs. Norris before doubling back down the increasingly familiar route to the dungeons.

He consulted the map again by wand light. He'd never been to Snape's or any of the other teacher's private quarters, and the only reason he had any idea where they were was because he spent so much time making sure they were asleep while he was up wandering the castle after curfew. He was surprised to find the dot that read Draco Malfoy lingering in front of Snape's door.

Harry took the short flight of wide stone steps two at a time and took two lefts and a right and found the blond in a pair of black cotton sleep pants and a dark green Slytherin flavoured Quidditch t-shirt. He had his wand out and was pointing it at the portrait guardian, a snake in the tall grass. His sharp features were twisted into a familiar enraged snarl.

"Abattoir! Abattoir! Abattoir! Damn you to the seventh hell! Let me in you poor excuse for a water colour!" Draco all but shrieked.

~No students~ hissed the apple green grass snake in the painting as though repeating an order.

"Move," Harry ordered whipping off his Invisibility Cloak.

"Potter? What the hell—" said Draco looking surprised and hesitant.

"Get the fuck out of my way, Draco!" he snapped.

Draco moved to one side and Harry looked the snake directly in the eyes.

~ We have given you the password, snake. You will admit us, or I will reduce you to ash,~ Harry half hissed half snarled in parseltongue.

Draco shivered slightly behind him, but Harry didn't have the time to explain what he was doing so he could just damn well be uncomfortable.

~Master has said, no students,~ the snake pleaded, ~Speaker is a student, Speaker may not enter, Master says so,~

~Sometimes the Master does things that are not good for him, the Master is dying, he needs us, let us pass!~

The snake hissed something unintelligible, dithering, as the apple green coils disappeared into the tall grass, but the portrait swung open a minute later and Harry and Draco wasted no time before dashing inside.

The stone floor was dotted here and there with blood spatters. Harry took a deep breath of the thick metallic scented air, and steeled himself for what he would find in the room beyond. He took one very necessary mental step sideways before striding into the sitting room.

There Severus Snape lay, bare-chested, unconscious and barely breathing his blood soaking into the dark fabric of the throw rug in front of a dark wood liquor cabinet as his muscles shuddered and twitched weakly. His shirt and robes were a shredded mess in a pile on the floor.

His back was the worst.

"Oh, gods," Draco said in a strangled whisper, "What—"

Harry took another slight mental step to the side, into that place where nothing could touch him.

"Cutting curses, Cruciatus, and it looks like these strips here have been flayed off," Harry said clinically gesturing at the mess of Snape's back.

Draco went very white and then turned and vomited into a tall decorative urn, a rather fanciful thing, black with gold etchings that Harry wouldn't have thought was to Snape's taste.

Harry reached out a hand automatically, but curled his fingers in, not sure if his interference, his comfort, would be welcome. Draco retched again and Harry told his mental propriety check to shove it and rubbed the blond's back as he dry-heaved.

"Draco, come on, I need you to keep it together," he muttered somewhere near the other teen's ear.

Draco nodded wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Get off, I'm fine," he said shrugging off Harry's arm.

Harry backed off and turned back to Snape. He heard Draco cast the vanishing spell on the urn and move into the bathroom to wash up.

Harry flicked his wand and muttered the same sleeping spell he'd used on Draco and then moved the couch and chairs and levitated Snape at waist height over the already ruined throw rug. He examined his professor's injuries with a critical eye. He'd been under Madam Pomfrey's wand often enough between quidditch and his extracurricular adventures that he'd picked up a bit of healing know-how. Snape's injuries weren't all that complicated but there were just so many of them. The task seemed daunting. Harry shook his head to clear the doubt from his mind and focussed. One thing at a time.

"I'm going to need Essence of Dittany in a minute. Can you find it in his stores?" Harry asked Draco as he reappeared looking pale but composed.

"Of course," Draco nodded, kneeling and digging around in the wine-cabinet.

Harry held the professor's nose closed until he opened his mouth to breathe and dumped one of the Blood-Replenishing potions he'd nicked down his throat. Though Snape had probably already taken an anti-Cruciatus potion earlier, judging by the lack of violent twitching, Harry administered another one just to be safe.

"Got it!" said Draco dashing over.

"Good."

Harry waved his wand and doused the professor in cool water to clean the wounds, the rug squelched wetly under his shoes and he tried not to think too carefully about what it was soaked with lest he need to make creative use of the urn himself.

He then flipped Snape onto his back and gestured at Draco to begin administering the Dittany. To the blond Slytherin's credit, he didn't even flinch as he carefully pipetted small amounts of the clear liquid onto his respected professor's mutilated back. The skin on either side of the wide strips of missing flesh began to grow over the angry red wounds, they wouldn't even scar. Expensive and difficult to obtain it was still the best remedy for flesh wounds available.

"That's good."

"But—"

"It's healing, the skin needs time to grow, don't waste the whole bottle, he'll probably need it later," Harry said gently prying the bottle and pipette out of Draco's white-knuckled grasp.

"Aren't we going to use it on the cuts?"

"No, they're not serious as long as we keep the bleeding down. He can heal them himself in the morning, unless you can do the spell?"

Draco shook his head no, looking frustrated by his lack of knowledge.

Harry flicked his wand and a length of thick white bandages wound itself around Snape's torso and upper arms. Harry forced another few potions that would prevent infection and slow the bleeding down his professor's throat and then stepped back for a long moment to survey his handiwork.

Snape had stopped shuddering under the after effects of the cruciatus curse and was no longer bleeding out onto his carpet. His ashen face was slowly regaining its normal sallow complexion and his breathing was slow and steady in enchanted sleep.

Harry let out a slow breath and his hands began to shake slightly.

"Is he going to be alright?" asked Draco.

"I think so. It looks like we've handled the worst of it."

Hesitantly he closed his eyes and sort of made a mental reach to Snape. It was easy now that he knew what he was searching for. Snape's left hand twitched slightly and Harry could feel the, not health, but hurt-not-dying sense from Snape.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and nodded to himself.

"Guess this makes us even, Severus Snape," he murmured running a thumb over the exposed blemish that was the dark mark on his professor's left forearm.

There was a slight fizzle of sensation, like a sudden chill, and Harry quickly moved his hand away.

"Let's get him into bed," Draco said, watching Harry with wary curiosity.

Together the teens got their professor into a pair of pyjamas – black, Harry was amused to note – without scarring themselves for life in the process and tucked him into his bed.

"You're going to have to stay with him and dump these down his throat every three hours or so," Harry said quietly setting the remaining blood replenishers out on Snape's nightstand.

"Yeah, I know," said Draco, "Potter, Harry, you – you won't mention this to Dumbledore, will you?"

"As far as anyone other than you is concerned, I was never here. You patched him up yourself. I'm sure you'll think of some viable excuse."

Draco made a face.

"Not that he'll thank me in the morning," he sighed.

Harry laughed at the blond's put upon expression.

"Hide his wand before he wakes up, then at least you'll have a fifty-fifty chance of survival."

Draco groaned as he settled himself into a chair and prepared to get no sleep.

"Yeah, no kidding," he sighed.

Harry turned to go.

"Po—Harry,"

He paused, and turned to face the Malfoy heir who was looking very thin, frail and drained at the moment. Not at all his usual arrogant self.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, for coming, for helping him. I wouldn't have known what to do on my own...he's my godfather you know, I care for him, I don't know what I'd have done if he'd..."

"I think you underestimate yourself," Harry said.

He worried his lip slightly, indecision flashing in his green eyes, then he bent and pressed a chaste kiss to Draco's forehead. He turned to go and Draco caught him by the hand, and pulled him back.

Their lips met in a longer, deeper kiss. Harry shivered as heat flooded through him, slow and languid. They broke apart after a long moment and rested their foreheads together as they caught their breaths.

"Try to get some sleep. I'll have the house-elves get rid of the rug and bring the two of you breakfast."

"How are you going to manage that?" asked Draco.

"I have my ways," Harry said with a tired grin.

He stole one last peck from Draco and then left Snape's quarters.

~Master lives?~

~Your Master lives, snake, thank you,~

~Speaker,~

~Yes?~

~You are a protector of the nest, the others will know, we shan't stand in your way again,~

Not knowing what to make of that cryptic little tidbit, Harry simply nodded to the snake and pulled on his invisibility cloak.

Harry found Dobby and Winky exactly where he expected them to be, cleaning up in the Gryffindor common room.

"Mister Harry Potter, sir!" exclaimed Dobby excitedly throwing himself at Harry's legs and hugging them tightly.

Winky gave a more sedate curtsy.

"Dobby, Winky, I don't want to make any trouble for you two but if you could dispose of the carpet in Professor Snape's sitting room and arrange for someone to bring him and Draco Malfoy a tray for breakfast tomorrow I would be very grateful," Harry said.

"Tis not being any trouble Mister Harry Potter, sir, we is happy to be doing as you asks," Winky replied positively glowing at the request.

Dobby was uncharacteristically quiet. Harry knelt down so that they were looking each other in the eyes.

"I understand if you don't want to because Draco is involved," he said quietly.

"No, I is doing what Mister Harry Potter, sir, is asking. I will not be talking to young Master Draco. Young Master Draco is not remembering me, t'will not be hard, sir," said Dobby determinedly eyes flashing.

"I will be right beside you," Winky said encouragingly and the two elves disappeared with a loud pop.

That done Harry shot a suspicious glance at the banked coals in the fireplace and trudged up the stairs to his dorm.

He kicked his shoes off and flopped onto his bed. A quick _tempus_ told him it was closing in on four in the morning.

He didn't dare shut his eyes, all he'd get for his trouble was nightmares.

Instead he sighed conjured a witchlight and got changed into some sweats. Harry packed his book bag for the next day and grabbed a clean uniform to change into. He would go to the library, find that spell Sirius had mentioned and then go for a long run before breakfast.

Harry picked up Draco's letter and tucked it into his pocket. He would read it in the library.

Harry snuck out of Gryffindor Tower for the second time that night and broke into the Library without any trouble. Filch had long since gone to bed but just to be safe Harry made a fort out of his invisibility cloak and a study terminal.

He raided the stacks and hid in his little nook under the terminal with a few books and finally gave in to temptation and opened Draco's letter.

_You seriously think that Umbridge has the stones to make an attempt your life? She's a sycophant and a fanatic, nothing more. _

_It's hard to say whether or not Defence would be my second favourite subject even if Snape did teach it, there is something incredibly soothing about brewing potions. I have been doing it since I was a child. However, Professor Snape is my favourite teacher and in large part the reason for my love of the subject. No, I honestly could not decide without being in the situation. _

_No, to my father's constant consternation Granger continues to get top marks in Arithmacy. Even if I happen to have a better term grade somehow she ends up doing better on the exam. It is truly the most frustrating thing ever. I think she runs herself into the ground studying just to have the satisfaction of beating me. _

_The fact that you keep saying the Dark Lord's name bothers me._

_Honestly, I would rather not speak of affiliations – no religion or politics at the dinner table, so to speak – but I don't think we need to mark the subject as taboo. I would like to think we are both mature enough to accept our difference of opinion and move forward. That being said since neither of us is particularly used to exercising that maturity where the other is concerned, who can say what will happen? The point I'm trying to make is we're not going to get anywhere avoiding the problem and we're not going to get anywhere worrying about it prematurely so let's just deal with the issue as it actually presents itself. _

_Christmas, or rather the Solstice, with my family is rather a lot like what I imagine when I imagine the _Ton_ in the golden years of the aristocracy, a constant stream of dazzling celebrations and amusements for the wealthy. At the end of it all you feel so drained that you need a vacation from your holiday! The revelries are broken up by a private family dinner and a morning of gift opening. When I was younger it was all about the flash and glitter of it all, and as a Malfoy I was very accustomed to flash and glitter even at that age. You can imagine how extravagant the entire affair was, it had always entranced me. That and of course the expectation of presents. Now though I find myself looking back on those days in a different sort of light. My grandparents, that is my father's father and his second wife, used to come for the first dinner on solstice night and stay until after dinner on Christmas Day. After the fall of the Dark Lord they moved to France to manage the Malfoy holdings there so I rarely saw them outside of special occasions and the winter holidays were by far the best of them. I never realized how much I enjoyed having the entire family around for the season until they weren't there anymore._

_The best gift I ever received was from Grandmama Celeste. I was eight and just learning what being a Malfoy meant about my place in the world as compared to the places of others. Needless to say I had found the peak of my self-importance. My grandmother, wise woman that she was, knew that the glamour of the Malfoy name would fade as I learned of my responsibilities and duties to the family and estate. In anticipation of the disillusionment to come she bought me a house. She said that being a Malfoy was all well and good but that this house was not for a Malfoy, an Heir Apparent or a young Master. This house was to be for her grandson Draco. It is the only thing I have that isn't entailed to the Malfoy Estate, it's _my_ house. _

_Before next Solstice grandfather died, officially the cause was a heart condition. The French Ministry suspected foul play of some kind but they couldn't prove anything and the culprit was never found. Grandmama was lost to her grief. She shut herself away and just stopped living. The only reason she didn't manage to neglect herself into death is because of devoted servants who wouldn't let her. Father insisted she come to England for the Solstice and so she came and tried very hard to pretend she was fine. I could tell that she was unhappy. So I begged my mother, my father, St. Nick, Merlin, and any gods who cared to listen to make her smile for real. I even offered up all of my presents in exchange. But she didn't smile. _

_She still doesn't even though she is much improved from those first few years. You never would have believed that my grandfather close-minded and hard-hearted as he was could inspire such single-minded devotion. He was the quintessential Lord Malfoy, everything my father tried to emulate, the standard of comportment to which I was held, and despite all of that she loved him. The old bastard probably never even knew how much. _

_Good Merlin, I've become maudlin._

_On the subject of House Elves...Why are we discussing House Elves of all things? I always thought you were humouring Granger, supporting her little campaign. It had an awful acronym but for the life of me I can't remember what it was. I digress, to be perfectly honest I don't particularly care one way or the other about House Elves. They are without a doubt incredibly useful creatures and if it became absolutely necessary I would, I believe, pay them wages before losing their aid entirely. I have cleaned up after myself a time or two for punishment or as a character building exercise or both, without magic I might add, and I have since endeavoured not to repeat the experience. _

_The concept of paying the elves though, is a very muggle one and I don't understand it. Why pay the elves for work they are tripping over themselves with eagerness to do? We give them food, work, shelter, and the necessary magics to avoid the need to declare allegiance to a faerie court and become embroiled in Otherworldly politics. There was a time when you couldn't even mention having Otherworldly housekeepers, now they can be acknowledged for their services and even sought after. Lower Fae have never had it so good without belonging to a faerie monarch. Why bring money or payment into it at all? Why on Earth would you want to? Isn't life complicated enough without having to negotiate with the fae who I might add take debt very seriously? _

_As to Umbridge, do you really need to ask? Of course I'm in it for the power. It is insulting to insinuate otherwise. Each one of her so called Educational Decrees are the most ridiculous compilations of self-serving short-sighted drivel I have ever had the displeasure of enforcing. The woman is merely a means to an end, the end of course being to strip Dumbledore of clout and credibility thus creating a power vacuum the Malfoys or their associates could fill. The fact that the woman is herself has proven...inconvenient, to my house and to me personally, which leads me to asking you for a favour. I know that you've arranged for defence instruction for some people (relax St. Potter that's all I or anyone else knows of your activities) and I was wondering if you might do the same for the Slytherins? I haven't any idea how the other houses are getting their instruction and I don't care but my house needs to benefit despite the current circumstances. Or perhaps because of them. Whatever, the point is years one through five need regular instruction that tutors and upperclassmen just can't provide. I don't want to dump this on Snape's plate and it is after all my father's fault Slytherin is in this situation. Can you help me?_

_I will save my other questions for tomorrow night and ask them in person. I am counting on your rule-breaking experience to keep us from being caught. That being said if we are caught I will, of course, throw you to the wolves without a second thought. Fair warning. _

_Until next time. _

_Yours._

Harry read the letter several times astounded by the trust Draco was putting in him by revealing these intimate details about himself. All these little things he would have never in a million years have credited to the blond Slytherin.

Draco, he was coming to realize, was very good at hiding behind other people's expectations. Another trait that they shared.

His request for help with defence presented a very interesting dilemma and Harry's brain was already filling with plans about how to accommodate him. He was going to need Professor McGonagall's help with some of it he was sure and it would cut yet another massive chunk out of his free time but it wasn't like he was sleeping nowadays anyway.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Alright guys, I know there is a lot of stuff going on in this chapter and its a little more dramatic and serious than what you've seen so far. Welcome to Big Plot Development, who thought we'd never get here?

Raise your hands don't be shy.

Thing is, I don't want to do only big drammatic plot development and ignore the character development foundations that attracted you all to this story in the first place, so for gods sake tell me if Harry and Draco are getting OOC...er, that is to say more than can be explained by their suddenly being gay and having a budding forbidden romance. Yeah.

To summarize:

**If it's craptastic, tell me, will edit!**

Alright, now that I'm done agonizing, thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoyed, please leave a review and ensure your thoughts will be immortalized in Times New Roman 12 size font!


	8. Chapter 8

**The Courting Games**

**Chapter Eight: The Dark Lord's Allure**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

**Author's Note: **Hi guys, welcome back, just wanted to let you know that the rumours of my untimely demise are completely fabricated, by me, to keep you from hunting me down and tossing me off a bridge into piranha infested waters. Sorry it's taken me so long to update, and thank you to everyone who stuck with me so far and taken the time to review, alert and favourite.

This story has undergone some editing during its downtime, nothing too serious as far as plot changes are concerned but I've fixed some of the glaring spelling and grammar errors and changed the format in a few places. I've also addressed some of the concerns about plot continuity pointed out to me in reviews.

Now, what are you all still doing up here? You have your update, get reading!

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><p>Draco woke to the sound of buzzing in his ears and tried to swat away the source of the sound to no avail. Blearily he blinked his eyes open and it took a moment to remember where he was and why he was there instead of in his bed in his dorm where he should have been. Once he remembered all that he remembered that he'd set an alert spell to wake him if Severus woke up. He glanced at the clock on the mantel and saw that it was late in the morning.<p>

Cursing the whole situation in a very un-Malfoy manner he stumbled off his godfather's couch and into his bedroom.

"Severus?"

Severus was sitting up slightly in his bed and while he still looked a bit pale and thin his dark eyes were clear and focussed.

"Draco?" rasped the potion's master, "What are you doing here?"

"Apparently," drawled Draco arching one fine blond brow, "Saving your life, Severus."

Severus' face shut down and Draco could practically hear the thoughts racing around the man's twisty brain.

"What happened, Draco?" he demanded finally his voice low and sharp, regaining some of its usual velour.

"As far as I can tell, you were the victim of a number of Cruciatus curses, slashing curses, and in some places had the skin flayed from your flesh," answered Draco his voice deceptively mild.

"Don't be purposefully obtuse Draco."

"Very well, you want to know how I knew you were in this state?"

"Obviously," drawled Severus.

"I had snuck out of the dorms after curfew to deliver a letter of some sensitivity and I saw you leaving the grounds, with a deatheater mask in hand. You looked…tense, I suppose. Something about your manner was off. I decided to wait for you to return and confront you. Demand answers. Imagine my surprise when you staggered into your chambers trailing blood and shaking like a leaf in a high breeze."

"How did you get into my private quarters? I do not allow students access after midnight even with the password. Not even you."

"I may have threatened your portrait guardian," said Draco unconcernedly examining his nails.

"And you healed me?"

"I was able to administer the proper potions and I'm afraid I used a fair amount of your essence of dittany on your…more serious injuries. I don't know enough healing magic to deal with the cuts and bruises so I'm afraid you'll have to take care of them yourself but I cleaned and wrapped them, and I've been monitoring you and it doesn't look like they're infected."

Severus glanced at his bedside table, at the empty phials that had once been full of blood replenishing potions.

"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked warily.

"Only about ten hours."

"Only?" said Severus archly.

Draco shot his godfather a sharp look, grey eyes flashing with anger.

"The carpet in your sitting room was soaked in your blood, and it reeked like a slaughterhouse, judging by the twitching in your accursed frame you are extremely lucky your heart didn't explode in your damn fool chest."

Severus winced a bit at the young man's tone, marvelling privately that he was getting a scolding from his fifteen year old godson. One that was perhaps not entirely undeserved.

"If I hadn't been here, if I hadn't just happened to have seen you—"

He cut himself off with a sharp gesture of his hand.

"I am sorry, Draco. You were never meant to get involved in this."

Draco took a deep breath and gathered himself back into some semblance of Malfoy aplomb.

"On the contrary," he said in a steady voice a moment later, "Father has said that I am to join the deatheaters. Over the summer, if it please the Dark Lord, after I turn sixteen. I should very much like to know what it is I am getting myself into."

Severus grimaced at the revelation. He didn't know why he was so surprised, it should come as no shock to him at all that young Draco was being recruited. After all, he'd been the same age when he'd joined the deatheaters and Regulus and Barty had been even younger.

"I hadn't thought your father would bring you before our lord until after your majority, else I would have sought you out myself."

"Father hasn't much choice, our lord is displeased with him and seeks recompense."

"The Dark Lords displeasure is indeed formidable," said Severus wryly, shifting slightly in his bed.

"So I can see," said Draco, then his tone softened in concern, "What did you do Sev?"

Severus sighed, "I cannot tell you that, and you ought to know better than to ask. My place in the Dark Lord's ranks is…uncertain. A spy is never fully trusted and my lord is well aware of the fictions I wove for Dumbledore and those fools at the Ministry to keep myself out of Azkaban. He was not impressed with a report I gave. That is all."

"He nearly killed you because the information you presented him with did not suit him," said Draco flatly.

"That is correct."

Severus could see the storm brewing behind his godson's pale eyes. If Lucius had done right by the boy in one way it was ensuring that he knew duty and loyalty to family. In Draco Malfoy's books the Dark Lord was treading on thin ice and Severus had no doubt that if Draco were a bit older, more knowledgeable and more powerful he might go and do something foolish, and he suspected that the Dark Lord might come away the worse from such a confrontation were it conducted fairly. Well, as fairly as a fight between Slytherins was ever conducted.

"Why do still serve him Severus, if this is what he does to you, by Morgana, why?"

Another sigh passed the potion master's lips. How to explain to his headstrong godson?

"It is complicated Draco."

"Then uncomplicate it."

"When the Dark Lord began his first rise to power he was much different than the creature you will soon be confronted with. He was handsome, charismatic, and powerful. You stood in his presence and were immediately aware that the man before you was one of the most powerful wizards that world would ever see. Still, that would not have been enough to garner the success that he managed, not in centuries past.

It begins with the turning of the tides, the advent of change, as most wars do. Purebloods were beginning to lose their foothold on the wizarding world, more and more muggleborns filled the classrooms of Hogwarts and took jobs, instigating change, bastardizing wizarding culture by plying it with the ideals of the modern muggle until the old ways were brushed aside and we were left with something unrecognizable. Grindelwald was the first to rally, thinking to use the power mad Adolf Hitler to thin the ranks of the muggles before descending upon those who remained leaving only wizard kind to walk the earth. He would have slaughter babes in arms had they no magic and he would have said it was for the greater good."

Severus could feel the sneer curling his lip just speaking of the thrice damned phrase.

"When Dumbledore finally defeated him and the muggles were left to their own devices, it left a power vacuum. The purebloods were still discontent, the Ministry still in chaos, the muggles preoccupied with their own war and dying by the thousands every day in fighting or as prisoners, there had never been a better time for one such as our lord, and he stepped very neatly into position, gathering those who had already sworn to him their loyalty while he was still in school and promising those that joined him power and revenge, to right the wrongs that muggles had visited upon wizard kind, starting by ridding the world of their unworthy mudblood get."

Severus took a breath to calm himself.

"My lord was more cunning than Grindelwald, who by all accounts had no patience to speak of. He took steps in his early years to make sure that he could not be cut down. That the mortal death would never take him and ruin all he strove for, and while he was securing his future he sewed his seeds in the Ministry and had his deatheaters gathering support in Europe. When he met opposition from the so-called light minded families, those whose lands and magics had supported and protected muggles for centuries he declared them enemies and razed their homes to the ground with them inside. It was then, in those first strikes against the mixed towns and villages that the new deatheaters became aware of his ruthlessness, of his resolve."

"He'd proven himself," muttered Draco.

"Just so," Severus nodded, "Old power controlled by old families went to their next of kin, almost always granting the deatheaters yet more power and yet it also became a gamble, for the longer our lord's campaign continued, the fewer true purebloods there were. If his vision were to fail there would be no second chances, they knew. A few, like the Blacks, were supportive in their own way but refused to commit all the resources of their house to the cause, preferring to wait until victory was assured.

My own family had lost everything in the previous war, their lives included. My mother was left alone and forced to degrade herself by marrying the muggle filth that was my pathetic excuse for a father so she didn't starve on the streets. By the time I reached your age the promise of power and respect was too alluring to ignore, all of my associates, your father included, were either already marked or were simply waiting for the opportunity to present itself.

I was too impulsive, I admit, my skills as a potions master were finally being recognized and my skills in the dark arts even more so, the sudden change in my circumstances went straight to my head. It wasn't until much later that I realized that whatever our lord had done to himself to ensure his immortality it had affected his perceptions. We had always been pawns to the great mastermind who thought to crown himself king of all wizard kind, no more important to him than the giants or the werewolves or any of the other half-wit beasts he called to his side, but it had never been more apparent than in the last years of his campaign. Of course you know that Potter managed to defeat him and it seemed for a time that the struggle was over. Lucius of course could not accept that and he set to using his wealth and influence to its fullest potential trying to stem the tide of change. Then miraculously our lord returned to us."

"But he wasn't the same," murmured Draco.

"No. It was as though the last bit of humanity had been stripped from him leaving only vicious ambition. Admirable perhaps, but not comfortable, and not, I fear, terribly reasonable. The Dark Lord has never tolerated failure but his methods of dissuasion were never quite so…poignant in days past."

"Yet you still serve him, even after his fall, even though he has not yet regained his former power, and even though he's begun what seems to me like a slow slide into madness?" Draco shook his head, "Is it truly our lord that is mad or is it us for following him?"

"I would not let your father hear you say such things Draco," said Severus warningly, "I may be tired and disillusioned but his fervour has not been banked. You mother, Morgana bless, is more sensible."

"She was never marked," Draco pointed out.

"No, her family and her status gave her enough clout to shield her and perhaps once it would also have shielded you, but no more. The House of Black is down to one mangy cur of a scion, the rest dead, imprisoned or disowned. It will not be long now before she is put in the same position as you."

Draco all but ground his teeth pacing the stone and carpet of Severus' bedroom like a caged animal, fury racing through him both at the whole set of circumstances, and at his father for not being the one to warn him of them.

"Listen to me very carefully Draco," said Severus catching his godson's arm as he passed near the side of the bed, and his grip was no less urgent for the weakness he could feel suffusing his limbs, "Once you are marked you are tied to the Dark Lord, not even death can break that bond, you will carry his brand on you for the rest of your days, success or failure come."

"I don't want to do this Sev," the blond admitted in a soft voice, squeezing his hand for comfort, "By all the gods above and below, I don't want any of this for myself or my family. What is my father thinking?"

"He is thinking that this is the only way to restore the wizarding world to rights, just as his father thought when he sat around the fire in the Slytherin common room and plotted out the course of his future with the young dark lord watching over him with eyes that held no pliancy more than fifty years previous. Your father was just as caught up in the flow of events as any of us, molded from a young age to serve the man his father respected above all others, the one he respected enough to bend a knee to even though a Malfoy kneels before no man or beast. If you want to break the chain you had best think quickly, there are few enough options, and I will help you if I can of course, but if you cannot escape you must commit and commit fully Draco, or you will be killed."

"The Malfoy's have a single heir and I am it. If I am killed the wrath of my family will fall upon the Dark Lord."

"And they too will be slaughtered. I am telling you, foolish, arrogant, child, that there is no way your mother or father or even I can truly help you now if this is the course you've decided to follow. You must make your own way, and make it well."

Draco released his godfather's hand and resumed his pacing. There was more at work here than Severus was letting on, of that Draco was certain, and it had something to do with Harry Potter. Draco almost cursed Potter for opening his eyes to the mess he'd unknowingly mired himself in, but found that he couldn't blame the dark haired boy as he always did. After all it wasn't Potter's fault that Draco had refused to see the evidence right in front of his eyes. How many times had his father staggered into the manor late at night shaking just as Severus had been shaking? How many times had his mother been forced to sit by his bedside? How many times had Draco nearly lost them both without ever realizing it?

Severus allowed him to continue for another few minutes before, pain and annoyance caught up with him.

"Enough. You're wearing a trench in my floor with your pacing. Make yourself useful and go down to the kitchens and order a tray sent to my room and while you're at it eat something yourself, and get some rest. You look terrible."

Draco shot him a sulfurous glare.

"Take a look in your own mirror before you cast stones about the appearance of others, and I've yet to hear a word of gratitude for saving your ungrateful hide."

"Nor will you," said Severus in his customary tone.

"See if I ever save your life again," sniffed Draco, "I already had a tray brought up, and I ate earlier, give me a moment and I'll get out of your hair. Just be grateful it's Saturday."

Draco slipped out of the room and flicked his wand at the remaining breakfast tray, his own empty one had vanished while he was asleep just as mysteriously as it had appeared. The tray floated over to him on a hover charm and Draco directed it forward into the bedroom. Draco didn't really believe that Severus was as ungrateful as he appeared but his godfather had to resent being held to a life-debt. All the better really that Draco had no intention of telling the man that part of that debt resided with his most despised student.

"There you are, eat. I will arrange with the House Elves for you to receive a tray for lunch and dinner, but if you don't wish to arouse suspicion you will have to be out of bed and prowling around as usual tomorrow morning."

"And I will better be able to see to that without your mother-henning, Draco. Do go away."

"I am not mother-henning," said Draco indignantly.

"Are you still here?"

Scowling Draco stalked from the room and then from the curmudgeonly potions master's quarters casting a notice-me-not charm as he went.

The dungeon halls were cool and dark even as it approached midday and Draco didn't pass any students between Severus' rooms and the Slytherin dorms.

"Silver Chalice," he muttered at the blank section of wall, sidling through the gap in the stone before the entrance was fully opened.

There were a good number of people in the common room, talking or doing their homework and a number of chess and gobstones sets were set out, and there was the faint pop that let Draco know some fool had probably just singed his eyebrows off facing Zabini in exploding snap.

A faint pink flush rose to his cheeks as he strode with impunity through the common room in his sleeping clothes with his hair likely a nightmare and dark circles under his eyes from a long night. Still, no one stopped him or made a comment, so the notice-me-not charm must have been powerful enough to turn even the hungry eyes of the Slytherins away from the obvious signs of scandal.

In the safety of his dorm Draco allowed himself to slump in exhaustion and relief, his bed looked terribly inviting but he did need to see to the arrangements for Severus' meals and put in an appearance throughout the school lest his absence cause fodder for gossip or, Merlin forbid, alert Pansy to the fact that there was something going on.

So he ignored the temptation and staggered into the bathroom for a quick shower, glamouring away the signs of a restless night from his face and neatening his hair. He changed into a fresh set of uniform pants and a crisp white shirt forgoing his robes and tie and pulling a soft green sweater over his head for warmth. The halls were chilly in November.

"Where were you last night?" came the pointed inquiry in a deceptively soft voice as soon as Draco left his room.

"Who says I was anywhere?" asked Draco mildly.

"You never sleep this late and I'll give you excellent odds that if I hex those glamouries off your pretty face I'll discover that you barely slept at all. It's written in every line of your body."

"Zabini isn't the only one with late night assignations Nott, and I'll thank you to keep you observations to yourself."

"Pansy is worried about you. Lately you've been behaving…not oddly, but also not according to your usual routine."

"Pansy is worried," said Draco flatly, "And what is it you think, Theo?"

The blue eyed boy met his look with one of his own.

"I think that you'd best take care," he said softly, "You can ill afford for some upstart to notice what I have noticed and attempt to take advantage of your…distraction."

The door to the room next the Draco's shut with a soft click and the young Malfoy heir had to physically keep himself from grinding his teeth. He did not need this right now. All he wanted was a few minutes to gather himself, was that really too much to ask?

Carefully he drew himself up, squaring his shoulders, fixing his expression into one of cool disdain. Nott, damn him to the seven hells the knife-edged bastard, was right of course. He could not show weakness, not now that he knew just how thin the ice he was treading on actually was.

With that in mind he made an appearance at lunch, late, but early enough to grab a quick bite to eat and assure Pansy that the only reason for his recent change in schedule was a new and enthusiastic lover. Since the rumour that he'd had someone in his rooms just the other night had spread through Slytherin house like a wildfire, the excuse was accepted without question. Though Pansy did give him a subtle warning about discretion and flicked a pointed glance Astoria's way.

As if he needed the warning, no thanks to Potter he was now well aware that Astoria wasn't going to keep her head down. He really did need to write to his mother and have her put a quick end to the betrothal negotiations.

He slipped away from the table with vague excuses that could be interpreted any number of ways and before he left the Great Hall his eyes landed on Potter who looked as exhausted as he felt but was enthusiastically outlining some scheme to Weasley and Granger. Seeming to sense the direction of his gaze Potter looked up, their eyes met for a moment and Draco felt a measure of the heat of the kiss they'd shared last night jolt through him. He wondered if Potter could feel it too.

Reluctantly he slid his eyes away and strode from the hall. The kitchens weren't that far away and Draco was careful to make sure that no one saw him tickle the pear in the large oil still-life of a fruit bowl that concealed there entrance.

Draco hadn't been here often, it was rude after all to commandeer another's servants for his own purposes and he'd no doubt that the elves wouldn't hesitate to report his activities to Dumbledore if he tried it.

"Excuse the interruption," he said, clearing his throat to announce his presence.

Immediately the little creatures stopped their bustling and their high pitched chatter and as one bowed to him.

"I merely need one volunteer, the rest of you as you were," he said with an autocratic wave of his hand.

A small female elf separated herself from the small horde and gave him a neat curtsy, her nose was the approximate shape of a tomato and she had the thin look of an elf that had not been well cared for. A recent addition to the castle staff unless Draco missed his guess, tormenting herself over being freed.

"Young Master Malfoy, sir. I is being called Winky, sir. What can I be doing for you?"

"Professor Snape has taken ill and will require a tray for a late lunch and dinner as well as some light snacks for the interim, he is also not to be disturbed as he needs his rest, I require the elf delivering the meals to do so with the utmost discretion."

"Oh, you is not to be worrying Young Master Malfoy, sir. Mister Harry Potter sir is already seeing to it that Professor Snape is having his trays sir. But we is sorry to say sir that the rug could not be properly cleaned. We is having it replaced, sir, if that is being acceptable."

Draco blinked a bit, surprised that Potter had both had the forethought and taken the initiative to order the elves just as Draco would have.

"That is perfectly acceptable, if you would, convey my regards to Harry Potter."

"Of course, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Carry on then."

"Yes, sir."

As Draco left the kitchens he had to school the faint smile off his lips. Damn Potter for being so considerate anyway. Last week he'd had no trouble at all hating Gryffindor's Golden Boy, now he was smiling, smiling for Merlin's sake, at the very thought of him! What in Morgana's good name was happening to him?

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>And there you have it folks! Hope you all enjoyed this installment and have taken comfort in the knowledge that this story is in no way abandoned.

Hopefully it won't be quite such a wait between updates next time but, as always, no guarantees. I apologize in advance for my flaky ways.

Well that's all I have to say, so please feel free to take your turn and leave you comments, questions and thoughts in the box below. I love hearing from you guys!

Til next time.


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